In The Blood
by Eman1314
Summary: Lucy, undercover as a slave to find the key to save them all from Zeref's dark reign, runs into Natsu, a slave turned gladiator. Upon freeing him, she leads him into the hidden world of magic, and he joins the fight against darkness. Along the way he discovers that his new companions are not everything they seem to be, and that even he may not know the full extent of his history.
1. Chapter 1

Natsu felt the blood drip down his face.

The crowds were cheering. Their voices rose and fell in a great, booming wave. The golden sand reflected off the sun, creating waves in his vision. He felt heavy armor digging hard into his chest, sword resting near his shin. He was panting, back curved, free hand on knee, as he surveyed the opponent before him. Small cuts and bruises decorated revealed his arms and legs, a large slice across his chin making it difficult for him to clench his jaw.

His enemy was in much worse shape. A long cut had been raked across his abdomen, leaking crimson blood onto his worn leather armor. Another slash graced his arm. It had been deeper than Natsu had meant to make, and it rendered the limb useless, blood dripping down his unmoving fingertips. In his other hand he held a spiked club, but the weapon was dull and in disrepair. His armor was in a similar state. Natsu had known as soon as he'd laid eyes on the man that he was just an appetizer to get the crowd hungry.

It was working, if the noise gave was indication. He tried to block them out, but their voices were a dull roar all around him. Many chanted his name, and the chorus of 'Ignis Draco' went around in circles. He wanted to shout back, to turn his sword on _them_, but he knew it was hardly fair. These people were innocent, ignorant of what the play before them truly meant. They were bloodthirsty, but only because they wished to see others hurt more than they were.

They didn't care that the man presented to him had little to no muscle, that his armor was second-rate, and he could barely lift his own weapon. They hadn't noticed that he had preexisting wounds, especially ones across his back that Natsu certainly had not given him. They didn't know that he had entered this arena, eyes set and prepared to die.

More and more, that's how they came. Slaves, sent from the black fields of Crocus to play gladiator. He'd been one of them once, back when he was a boy no older than seven. His size and quick wit, as well as the mercy of those he'd been handed over to, had saved him. He'd been allowed to grow, still a prisoner, but freer than most. The ones who came up now were old and broken, and death was at their backs well before Natsu or the others got their hands on them.

The crowds jeered loudly as the man lunged forward. The hit would have been good had he been thirty years younger, but as it was his attack was slow and full of exhaustion. Natsu ducked under it, sending a bare-fisted punch into his gut. His opponent grunted, the club bouncing harmlessly off of Natsu's armored back and dropping to the ground. He followed after it, collapsing on Natsu's shoulder with a soft sigh.

Natsu shoved him off, standing up and brushing off the blood on his chin. It left a red streak on his arm, and he wondered if it would scar, blunt as the weapon had been. He heard the crowd chant for death, but his gaze rose to the grand podium at the front of the colosseum. Normal people could not see the man who rested at the top, but Natsu had no trouble locking eyes with him. He was not normal, the pulsating collar at his throat assured them of that.

The dark haired man in the observation box smiled as he noted his playthings' eyes on him. It was a blank smile, as if someone had drawn it on his face pale face. On either side of his white throne were his two commanders, Hades and Mard Geer. The latter smirked, noting the silent battle going on, but Natsu didn't pay him any mind. He kept his eyes locked onto the black-haired bastard as he raised his sword.

The blade caught in the light of the sun, shining down on the man lying on the ground. Natsu looked down to see him close his eyes, acceptance on his face. The crowd expelled a great sound of excitement, and Natsu rose his chin in a silent nod to the man in the podium as he slashed the blade down.

* * *

Lucy felt the blood drip down her face.

She sucked in a breath, head turned to the side, eyes wide and cheek stinging. The slap echoed in the air of the bathing chamber, bouncing off the walls in some sort of haunted melody. She could feel the bright sting of where nails had dug in, scraping the skin. Her cheek burned from the hit, blood rushing to the area of contact and making it heat up. The magic in her revolted, pushing to unleash itself, but she held it back with gritted teeth. Slowly she turned her head back toward the woman in front of her. She took in the superior smirk and the narrowed cruel blue eyes before bowing her head.

The woman was completely naked, still-dripping with water from the bath she had climbed out of. She barely seemed to care, even with a group of other serving girls cowering behind her. "I told you to bring in the mint scented wash, did I not?" Her abuser spit out. Lucy knew the question was a trick one. Angel hadn't told them anything, and Lucy wasn't the one responsible for picking the wash anyway. Still, she wasn't about to rat out the poor brown-haired girl shaking behind her, and so she lowered her head and demurred a soft apology.

That earned her another slap, which was so sharp it brought unbidden tears to her eyes. She grit her teeth against the pain, forcing her blood to settle. There was no collar around her slim neck, and now was not the time to unleash her magic. She had a mission, and it didn't require her revealing herself under the threat of a few beatings. There were things to be done, and she'd damn well do them.

"Speak up!" Angel demanded harshly, her voice tinted with sick humor. Slapping was hardly the worst thing Lucy would have to deal with while within these walls, so she sucked up her fury and pain and locked it in a dark place in her stomach. She let it sink into her skin, until all she felt was a blind numbness.

"I apologize for my ignorance, Lady Angel," Lucy repeated, head still bowed but loud enough to be heard. She braced herself for another slap, but Angel had seemingly tired of her. She raised her head at the sound of a splash, watching as the white-haired woman sank back into the purple water. Water laced with magic, Lucy had realized when she'd first entered the room, and she'd been careful not to touch it. The other women hardly seemed to mind it, but that was because they had nothing hidden in their blood.

Taking the boon given to her, Lucy shuffled over to the wall of soaps and grabbed the mint. She shuffled as it was impossible to do much else in these chains. Out of everything, they were the worst thing here. Lucy despised the metal cuffs that bit harshly into her skin. They made walking impossible, and the sight of them brought about nightmares that were better off left forgotten.

She grabbed the bottle, handing it off to another serving girl, and stepped back. She joined the other two girls waiting against the walls, backs straight and chins lifted, eyes unseeing. She melted into their group with ease, the only thing that offset her being the four bleeding crescents across her left cheekbone, which she knew better than to wipe away.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dark wisps of her hair. Perhaps it was vain, but a part of her soul cried out at it. Gone were her distinguishing bright blonde locks, covered beneath thick, dark dies and oils. Thin, pale, brown-haired, brown-eyed girls were hardly noticeable. Blonde, golden-eyed women were a bit more eye-catching.

Lucy tried to keep her mind from wandering as she waited her new mistress to finish bathing. However she couldn't stop herself from picturing that dimly lit room, the last time she'd seen her friends. They'd dyed her hair in that room, the stench of the sewers and the irregular dripping of water their only company. She'd been briefed of her job long before, and it had been her own choice. Still, nothing had helped the shivers along her body when they'd clasped those damned chains on her wrists. Her magic had leaped, and it had only been Leo's soothing voice that had calmed her. She could still feel his warm hands on her face, green eyes bearing into hers, as he promised she would come back alive.

Blinking, she thrusted the image away. It was an empty promise, simply meant to keep her collected, but she had felt the tug on her soul that bound Leo to that ridiculous promise. A promise that looked more and more bleak as time went on.

Already it had been three weeks since she'd been thrust into the mass of slaves headed for the capital. Lucy had only ever seen Magnolia's underbelly, where her and her guild operated through. To see the top, to be led through the industrial district and into the palace itself, even bound in chains, had been surreal. But stepping foot into the grand, black palace owned by King Zeref, Lucy had known immediately that their mission was in vain.

Demons prowled the intricate and beautiful hallways, members of the Balam Alliance going to and fro. Slaves were an abundance, but each had their own place. Lucy was unaware of how she had been placed under Angel, but she was sure it was due to the help of their secret spy, of which she was not aware. Angel was one of the less cruel masters, yet she was farther down the chain than Lucy needed. She needed to get near Mard Geer, but that possibility seemed steeper everyday.

She supposed she should be thankful for her guardian angel, irony intended, but she was not fulfilling her mission in such a case. She knew of Mard Geer's cruelty, and had prepared herself for it. She knew she would not come out of this place unscathed, perhaps not even with her life, but she was willing to make that sacrifice to get the information that Fairy Tail needed. There was a book, by the name of END, and within it was the key to defeating Zeref. An ancient book, there wasn't much known about it beyond its spell capabilities. Spells that could turn the tides of this war, so long as she could get her hands on the damn thing.

Lucy was snapped from her musings as Angel exited the bath for the second time. She paid Lucy no mind, instead holding her arms out as two girls began to dry her off. Lucy broke off with her companions, grabbing the long white dress laid out on the side and bringing it to their mistress. Lucy worked silently as they wrapped Angel in it, and it seemed the woman didn't even recognize her when she worked on combing through her hair. When they were done, Angel snapped at some of the girls to have her meal brought to her room, and began to head down the hall.

Lucy and the other girls followed obediently behind, shuffling after her. However they didn't make it much farther than the door when Lucy sensed a spike of magic. The wave felt cold and dark, and she was unsurprised to find Midnight leaning on the wall outside the bathing chamber. His eyes were closed, though there was a smirk on his face. He wore odd yellow pants and a black vest, little bits of fur lining his shoulders. His hair, a mis-matched combo of black and white, was thrown all over the place, as if he had been lying around all day. Lucy knew better, and felt herself shrink when his black eyes flashed open.

Midnight was a mystery, and not one that Lucy had any intentions of looking into. As far as she was aware, he was a member of the Oracion Seis, Angel's guild, but his allegiance was iffy. A rat, Lucy had heard Angel call him, sent to do Zeref's dirty work. Him and another member, Cobra, were always lurking around. Lucy feared Midnight for his senses and ability to pick out your fears, but she was _terrified_ of Cobra. The red haired man with the sharp ears had the ability to hear thoughts, as well as the smallest mouse scuttling around from the other side of the castle.

Cobra was a curiosity all of his own, though. A member of Oracion Seis as well, yet he seemed to have no affiliations outside of the green boa that hung around his neck. He was missing an eye, the skin scarred closed, and most curiously he wore a collar around his neck. It was the same collar that slaves with the ability to use magic wore. When Lucy had inquired about it quietly to one of the other slaves, she'd been told that Cobra used a rare breed of magic called dragon-slaying. It was a lost art, and extremely coveted. Apparently he had been a slave once himself, and had ended up in Zeref's clutches through the gladiator rings. Lucy knew of those, as one of her other guildmates was in their clutches as she worked. Cobra had shown his capabilities, and as a result had been risen to work under Zeref. He wore the collar now as a reminder, but Lucy thought it was more likely a threat.

Still, she supposed she was glad that it was Midnight rather than Cobra waiting for them, even if the short, pale boy gave her the creeps. There was something sadistic about him that had Lucy insanely grateful she had not been put under his care.

Angel stopped short at the sight of him, tilting her head at her guildmate with a petulant look on her face. "What do _you_ want?"

Midnight's eyes scanned their group lazily, but there was burning intent behind those dark spheres. She could have sighed when they simply glossed over her, feeling her own magic sink low in her gut. Where hers was light and full of life, his spoke of darkness and death.

"Our Lord has called a meeting. Everyone is to attend." He shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head. The act was child-like, but on him it looked like a predator sizing up his prey.

Angel only scoffed, folding her arms. "When?"

"After the next battle," he supplied, standing up with an eager look in his eyes. "You should come to watch it."

"I don't enjoy watching barbarians kill each other for sport," Angel scoffed, trying to sound superior. Lucy figured that was doubtful, considering the dark glee in her eyes when she'd been hitting her earlier.

Midnight smirked benevolently. "Oh, but this one will surely be of interest. It seems a new dragon slayer has arrived to challenge our Ignis Draco." He chuckled. "I'm sure it will be quite the show."

Lucy froze at that, her heart nearly stopping. She had known that one of her friends would be in the gladiator rings, trying to infiltrate from down below while she worked up top. Yet, she had not assumed that they would send in one of their dragon-slayers, though she supposed in hindsight it was the most logical choice.

In her mind she pictured the four that belonged to their guild. Her heart tugged painfully at any of the possibilities. Laxus, her long-lost cousin, the only living relative that shared her blood left. Or the twins, whom had been by her side for as long as she could remember, Sting's bright smile and Rouge's diminished smirk. Least of all Gajeel, who was the newest addition to their group, yet no less valued. He and Lucy had picked up an odd sort of friendship since his joining a few months ago. She shook to imagine that they would send him back in so soon after he had escaped his own hell.

Angel was curious as well, the disgust wiped off her face at his words. "How interesting," she mused, curling a strand of white hair around her finger. "I suppose I could make an appearance."

"I'm sure Master Hades would be most pleased," Midnight demurred, a wicked smile on his face. Angel scoffed and watched as Midnight pushed off the wall, slowly beginning to saunter away. She didn't dare remove her eyes from him until he rounded the corner, offering a lazy wave without turning around. His chuckle haunted Lucy all the way back to Angel's room.

It seemed to have haunted Angel as well, and she was even more vicious when they arrived back to her quarters. She hit two more slaves when her dinner took too long to arrive, and she even whipped one who had accidently dropped the pitcher of water.

Lucy had been forced to take her place, grabbing the pitcher off the ground while other girls hastily cleaned up the water. She flinched at each sound of the whip against skin, and was relieved to be allowed to leave the room and get more water. Her heart thudded with each step she took away from the door, the sounds growing quieter, yet somehow louder in her own head.

She remembered the feel of leather against skin. The harsh, burning line of fire it would create. Her fingers involuntarily ghosted over her white shirt, body flinching at the memory. If the pain weren't enough, the lines of scars she had over her back could tell her story. A story that many people shared, though she doubted to the extent that she did.

Lucy shoved those images from her mind, refusing to dwell on it. _I escaped. I escaped. I escaped. _She repeated it over and over in her head, feeling the truth in the words, despite the iron chains that bound her once again. She was cuffed, but she was not a prisoner. Never again would she be a slave.

Eventually she reached the kitchens, which were predictably in a busy hustle as the servants scrambled around to get their master's food prepared. The staff were only distinguishable by the black circle over their coats, and the fact that their feet were unchained for quicker movement. Lucy slipped around them as best she could, shuffling for the well in the corner of the room. It was thankfully unused, so she was able to get her water with little to no trouble.

When it was filled, she began the grueling task of heading back up to Angel's room. Going down stairs with bound feet was hard, but ascending was going to be impossible. Lucy didn't look forward to the task as she moved.

By the time she had reached the fifth floor, she thought she might collapse from exhaustion. She stumbled down the hall. She considered stopping for a break, but the sound of the whip kept her moving.

She was so focused on her task, that she didn't realize she'd walked down a hall with people in it until she was nearly on top of them. Lucy froze, horror drawing upon her as she looked at the three males gathered.

One was Cobra, who looked rather amused at her being there. The null colar rested around his neck, his red hair spiked up to reveal his stitched eye. He wore common clothes, only a black jacket that reached his boots making him look relatively distinguished. She supposed he would have been handsome, were it not for the cruelty that danced across his face.

The other two were strangers to her, but that only served to make them more threatening. The one in the middle was a stout man dressed in fine cloth and jewels. Glittering rings decorated his thick fingers, and shining necklaces covered his ruffled chest. He had long orange hair with a thick mustache, his blue eyes peeking out and eyeing her shrewdly.

The second man was the one who had her pausing. He radiated light magic, which called out silkily to her own. He was tall, dressed in a long white cloak, a tight black shirt and pants visible under it. His hair was short, a dark blue color. His eyes, as brown as hers, watched her with a strange blank expression. Under his right eye was an odd red symbol, a tattoo of sorts.

"What's this?" Cobra asked, leaning toward her with a leering look in his eyes. Lucy forced her mind to be blank as he watched her. "A little slave girl got lost?"

She backed up a step, uncertainty flooding her. "I'm sorry, masters. I was on my way—"

Cobra slid forward, a green snake suddenly twirling down his arm. Lucy froze, fear making her stil as the snake slithered toward her, wrapping its thick body around her legs. It's diamond-shaped face peered up at her, tongue flickering out to taste the fear she was releasing into the air. It's black eyes glittered dangerously. She would have shook if she weren't certain the creature would bite her for it.

"Good timing," Cobra mused, pacing behind her. She felt him lean beside her ear, eyes going wide when his tongue licked the shell of it. He released a humorous laugh, no doubt hearing her thoughts. "Cubelios was due for a snack."

"Enough," the blue-haired man said. He didn't speak loudly or warningly, but there was an air of authority that had Cobra pausing.

For a minute Lucy feared he wouldn't listen, but after a long, drawn out moment of tense silence, her tormentor backed away with a disappointed huff. A second later the snake was gone from her skin, leaving Lucy feeling like she would collapse.

She turned slightly to watch the snake rejoin its master, unwilling to leave her back to him. Cobra offered her a mean smile, more like a baring of his sharp teeth, and turned away. "Whatever. We'll finish this later. C'mon Hoteye."

The larger man mumbled an apology to the second man and followed after his companion. He didn't look at Lucy, but she didn't stop watching them until both men had disappeared.

Only when they turned the corner did she release the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Her magic itched under her skin, especially when she turned back to the remaining man. She had no beliefs that he'd saved her out of kindness, especially when he turned those critical eyes on her. Her body froze, hand gripped to the pitcher.

"M-master I—"

"Who are you under?" He asked suddenly, ignoring her quiet muttering. She gulped, willing her knees to stop shaking.

"Lady Angel," she told him.

His eyes widened for a second, and then he nodded, as if he'd confirmed something. He spun on a heel, walking away. Lucy watched him until he stopped, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Well? Follow."

Not needed to be told twice, she scrambled after him, careful to keep the pitcher from spilling over.

The blue-haired man walked steadily. At first she had to scramble to keep up with him, the cuffs on her ankles chafing uncomfortably. As if noticing her dilema, he slowed slightly, though Lucy was convinced it was her imagination.

Lucy was surprised when he led her up to Angel's door, and even more shocked when he put out a hand to tell her to wait. He reached up and knocked, and the sounds of bustling in the room stopped.

The door opened under the hand of a small brown-haired girl. Lucy recognized her as the one who she had saved earlier, and it appeared she recognized her too by the widening of her blue eyes.

"Lady Angel is not to be disturbed," she whispered, eyes turning back to the man before her. "I'm sorry but you must come back."

"Tell her Jellal is here," he said smoothly. The girl shook, realizing he wouldn't leave, and hastily turned back into the room. There was a sound of murmuring, then yelling, and then the distinctly harsh noise of skin on skin. Lucy flinched despite herself, but the man—Jellal—appeared undisturbed.

A second later the door was opened by a new girl, and this time Angel was beside her. Lucy glanced into the room, but she couldn't see the brown-haired girl from before. She hoped she was ok.

"Jellal," Angel crooned. She fluttered her eyelashes flirtatiously, leaning against the doorway. "What can I do for you?"

He smirked, amused and unaffected by her display. He reached down, taking the pitcher from Lucy's surprised grip, and extended it to the woman. Angel blinked, taking it slowly and glaring down at Lucy, who was half a step behind Jellal.

"That's my—"

"She's mine now," Jellal informed her without delay, already turning away, a hand on Lucy's back pushing her forward. She was surprised by how warm and gentle his push was. "We merely wished to return the pitcher."

Angel's sputters were heard from behind them. "You can't just!"

Jellal stopped. Lucy turned around, watching with amusement as Angel's outraged face turned white with shock and a healthy dose of fear.

"Can't I?" He growled back challengingly, his magic flaring enough that Lucy was sure Angel could feel it. The blonde looked up at Jellal and blinked at the dark look across his face. It was a bit feral, transforming him into something she had more-so expected, but didn't seem to belong.

Angel's protests died, unsaid on her gaping lips, and Jellal took that for acceptance. Without another word, he turned back around and continued to lead Lucy away. The blonde followed, silently wondering if she had been graced or cursed.


	2. Chapter 2

The irregular dripping water in the distance and soft, painful moans of the other prisoners were the only sounds in the small dungeon.

Natsu was led down the steep, cold steps by two guards. Led was a nice way of putting it. Jostled and nearly shoved over the unprotected edge would be more accurate.

He felt a harsh jab to his right side, tipping him into the sturdy attack of an elbow to his spleen. Natsu didn't dare utter any noise, even when he felt the breath puff out of his mouth at the hit. He was already sore from his other fights, his chin throbbing with the still-bleeding cut.

Thinking of that first fight brought up images of Zeref watching gleefully with his cold, blank eyes. He saw his sword, bright with someone else's lifeblood, clutched in his white-knuckled grip. The head, rolling away, crimson spilling from the gaping wound.

His stomach lurched as the guard on his left sent a teasing slap to his back. Natsu stumbled down the last few steps, barely keeping from smashing his face against the rough ground. The chains on his wrists rubbed a burning line of pain across his skin.

"Behold," the guard to his left boomed, swishing an arm up in a vibrant manor and conveniently smacking the side of his head. Natsu swayed with the hit, gritting his teeth as his world spun a little. "The _great and revered_, Ignis Draco!"

He turned to growl at the offender, but the prison guard had stood and already had him in his grip, jerking harshly on the chains that had been latched between his wrists. Natsu swallowed his anger, forcing his body to turn away. The guard's mocking laughter and jeers bounced off his back.

"Relax," the prison guard commanded, giving the chain a sharp tug. Natsu followed after him, wary but silently grateful that this man didn't seem to find amusement in his pain.

There were two types of men that filled up King Zeref's royal guard. Ones like this, who did their duty and kept silent. They didn't purposely try hurt their charges, but they weren't exactly nice, either. They did what they were told and went home to their families for it. A rare few were even chatty, but not usually so low beneath the castle.

The other kind were the ones like the two behind him, whom he could still hear making crude, filthy jokes. Those were the kind of guards that Natsu hated the most. Like demons, but without the power, which almost made them worse. They were the scum that had praised Zeref's undertaking, assisting in his reckless slaughtering. They found joy in other's pain, and went out of their way to elicit it.

Natsu wouldn't mind fighting those men in the ring. He'd rip them to shreds if given the chance. Men who celebrated the enslavement of people, simply because they possessed a gift that they did not. If only they knew the truth about the man they served.

Magic. That was what it always boiled down to. Who had the power, and who wanted it. Zeref certainly had it, but he was part of a rare third group that had it and wanted to ensure no one else did.

It wasn't Natsu's fault that fire ran through his veins where blood ran through theirs. He was proud of his heritage. Well, he had been. A part of him still was; the legendary son of _Rex Draconum, Ignis Draco_. That title made him swell, even if it was the very reason he was chained and had a collar around his throat.

Since his imprisonment, Natsu had only tasted his fire a brief number of times, enough that he could count them on one hand. Training with Igneel was when he really learned to control his flames, but he had been too young before his enslavement to access the magic that had sizzled in his veins. Magic was an emotional weapon. Most people had the capacity for it, but it required a stressor to awaken it. He still remembered the day his magic appeared.

He'd been eight, already a year past in their iron clutches. He was part of an enslavement camp in Crocus. The once-great city had been home to a kingdom ruled by people called The Celestials, but like the rest of the world, it had been decimated under Zeref's control. A few of the older native prisoners told him stories of golden fields and crystal blue lakes. Those sights were long gone by the time he got there, only dry wells and scorched earth to show they'd ever existed.

Still, the land was rich in minerals and precious gems. The slaves were given a pickaxe and a spool of rope, and sent into the dangerous mines to bring back goodies. They were never allowed to return without something to show for their work, and even then the chances of them getting punished were good. The mines were dark, unlit, and dust scorched at one's throat. It became especially common as time went on and hope failed, that the prisoners would use the ropes for other means. Natsu had thankfully never run into that, as the children were kept together.

That's when he'd met her.

She was a year younger than him, her eyes a crushing blue. Her white hair was short, chopped off by some guard for his twisted amusement. The longest strands reached her chin, the shortest barely an inch from her skull, but she still managed to make it look beautiful.

Lisanna was her name. Mira was her older sister, and Elfman her brother. Natsu had heard about them all the time. He always listened to Lisanna's stories with rapt attention. She was a good storyteller, and the way she talked about her family made something in him tight and loose at the same time. Maybe it was because he didn't remember his own family. Either way, he encouraged her to tell him all about them.

She was his light in the dark, the only thing that could make him smile, even when the master got angry and whipped them. Lis never cried, and that strengthened Natsu to do the same. They became fast friends, inseparable within weeks.

Natsu learned that day why the other slaves didn't talk to each other, why they didn't get close enough to feel. He had always assumed it was because they'd given up, or because they felt so much pain that they didn't have the capacity to feel someone else's. Lisanna was his best friend, his only friend. He'd never considered it to be a weakness.

Then he'd gone and done something stupid.

He didn't even remember what had started it. A guard had told him to do something and Natsu had refused. They'd smacked him around a little, but when they saw the rebellion in his eyes, they turned their attention to his friend.

The sound of them whipping her still managed to slip into his nightmares.

Natsu had begged them to stop, told them that he'd do whatever they wanted him to do. Two had punched him too, then held him up so he could watch. He was forced to endure it as they ripped off her shirt and loosed their evil whips across her back. Lines of red rose to the surface on her pale skin, but Lisanna never cried out. Then, they'd flipped her over, and one held her throat. The other pulled his pants down and grabbed a knife.

Natsu lost it. One moment they were standing over her prone, naked body, laughing and twisting the knife deeper, staining it a darker red, her screams ripping through the air. The next, they were piles of ash.

He started with the two holding him. Their pathetic souls had withered under his anger. He had barely registered their anguished shouts as his fire burned them from the inside out. Then he was onto the next to, nails ripping into the throat of the one with the knife, flaming fist coming down on the other. Natsu had felt their blood on his hands distantly, barely hearing their shouts. He only remembered the heat, the comforting sense of power that awakened within him. It had wrapped around him like a flaming cocoon. He had felt unstoppable, untouchable, and maybe a part of him understood why people feared those like him.

It hadn't mattered in the end. The men were dead, but so was she. When he'd finally calmed down he abandoned the guards, bloody and broken, and came to her side to see her eyes staring up at the sky, mouth still parted from her last scream. He had seen the mark of tartaros that they'd carved into her stomach. The bruises where they'd choked the life from her around her thin, pale neck...

Natsu was shaken from his dark memories by the groaning of an iron door. He blinked back into reality, realizing with surprise that they were at his cell.

The man beside him grunted when Natsu raised his arms. He unslung a key from his neck, pushing it into the locks and undoing the chains. They clattered against the dusty ground softly, kicking up sand. Natsu turned away, walking into the cell. He didn't turn when the door was shut, the scraping of the locks returning.

He waited for the guard to walk away before flopping onto his makeshift bed. It was much smaller than he was, pushed into the corner as if to be kept from sight. The expanse of his home wasn't much, perhaps a couple of feet between the bars and his back wall, twice that the other way. The ground was dirt and sand, sparsely covered with moldy hay. Two little buckets in the corner served as his bathroom and water source. Pity on him if he confused the two.

Even with the collar on, they weren't crazy enough to leave fire within twelve feet of him. The only source of light came from the miniscule window high above his head, about as wide as his fists put together. The cell was dark enough that a normal man would be left to stumble around, but Natsu wasn't normal.

He went to the makeshift bathroom, disposing himself into one bucket, and then picked up the other. It was half full, and a little murky, but gratefully cold. He tipped it back, chugging down two large mouthfuls. There was a leftover grimy feeling to his mouth, but at least his throat didn't feel so dry.

Bending to put the bucket back, he hissed at a sharp pain in his side. Natsu had been made to fight three other people after his pregame, each of them harder than the last. The only bright side was that they were good enough that their loss didn't dictate death. The downside was that they were good enough to leave painful bruises and cuts on his body.

One particular bastard had slashed his side, using a cheap shot by throwing sand at his face. Natsu had stumbled back, vision swaying, feeling the blood beginning to pool. He'd glared at the maniacal laugh his blonde-haired opponent let loose. Natsu had fought against him once or twice before, and neither had been a pleasurable experience. He wasn't as good as the pink-haired gladiator, but he was insane and never above using cheap tricks. Cruel, especially to those less than him. He took pleasure in the kill, and went by the name Zancrow.

Carefully he hobbled back to his cot, gratefully sinking onto the soft cushion. He leaned back against the rough, cool stone, letting the chill sink through his heated skin. The collar tugged annoyingly at his neck, but he was content to just relax and think. He had already been informed of tonight's match, and it ticked annoyingly at him. Another dragonslayer. He hadn't met one since Igneel…

Worrying about it wasn't going to do him any good. He closed his eyes, deciding to take a nap while he waited for Zeref to send one of the healers take a look at him. Far be it from the dark King to waste a crowd-pleaser like him. Natsu wanted to laugh at the irony of it.

Letting his breath even out, he drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Jellal was an enigma.

He hadn't said another word as he led Lucy around the castle, farther and farther from Angel's wrath. He kept that comforting hand on her back, but his face might as well have been hewn from stone for all it moved. As soon as he had led Lucy to his quarters, he had set her on a chair and disappeared through another door, not an order to be given besides a quiet "Wait here". That had been nearly two hours ago.

For the first half hour, she had sat still as a statue. She wouldn't have put it past the strange man to have some sort of magic that told him if she moved. When her patience finally frayed and she stood, she half expected him to leap out from behind the curtain and kill her.

He didn't. So she started to explore. Tentatively at first, just taking in her surroundings from the bench. Jellal was certainly a man who appreciated the finer things in life. He'd left her in a serving room, the area set to take in guests. There was a marble table at the far right side, with an unused tea set displayed. Soft, white cushioned chairs were set of on either side.

The walls were pearl, glittering with the soft light that came through the windows. The curtains were sheer white, allowing for the light to gloss across the room. There was an unlit fireplace on the far wall, the top decorated with an assortment of clocks. Lucy had examined them curiously, her attention mostly captured by a four-legged clock with a gold bar ellipsing it. None of them showed the same time though, whether it be by a few minutes or hours. She considered them and then gave it up. Far be it from her judging the guy's clock fetish.

The rest of the room was filled up by an armoire that was locked when she tugged on it's golden handels, and the cushioned bench that Jellal had deposited her on. A few paintings of scenic views covered the wall with the door that Jellal had went through. What truly interested Lucy was the writing desk pushed into the far corner, covered with stray papers.

The author in her was delighted by the delicate, classy station. Even if it was a bit on the messier side, the polished red wood and the abandoned quill called to that small part of her soul that was young and full of dreams. She had managed to resist it for a while, but when the room yielded nothing short of breaking into the armoire, she padded over to it.

She approached the desk cautiously, glancing at the door beside it. There hadn't been a sound on the other side since his disappearance, but Lucy knew if he decided to appear, she'd have no good excuse as to why she was across the room from where he'd left her. She paused a moment, but when the door didn't burst open, she gave it up and picked up a piece of paper.

It was a ledger of some sort, listed with words that had little to no meaning to her. Still she began to recite them, forcing her mind to burn the random words into her memory. Even a seeming grocery list would assist to Fairy Tail's cause. If she ever made it back to them.

She shook her head and moved onto a more promising page. It did her no good to think like that. She _would_ make it back. Jellal had taken her, no matter his sinister plans, and he was surely higher up than Angel.

She moved through a few more papers, memorizing but finding nothing of use. For some reason, the dark scary man who made Cobra back down enjoyed writing love poems in his free time. Lucy huffed after the fourth one, letting the papers flutter back onto the desk. Whoever had captured Jellal's heart sure had him good. Unfortunately, she just didn't see the use in this. _Maybe she could mock him and he'd let her go out of embarrassment?_

"All of my secrets are hidden in the bottom drawer."

Lucy screamed, turning so fast her hip bumped into the inkwell and sent it crashing to the floor. She looked up, her skin chilling when the very man she'd just been mocking in her mind was standing before her.

She was so very dead.

"L-lord Jellal," she stammered, mind reeling to think of how she could rectify this. "I'm terribly s-sorry. I was, was just, I um…"

"Stop."

She did, lips slamming closed. Her eyes fell from his intimidating gaze, landing around his chest. Her body shook, beginning to shrink on itself. She could already feel the hit, and closed her eyes in preparation.

A minute passed. And then another. Lucy dared to open her eyes, and look up. She was shocked when no hit came, and that the great scary Jellal was smiling at her.

It was a soft look, and it made him appear younger, more innocent. Lucy gaped at him uncomprehendingly, especially when he began to chuckle.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Lucy," he said reassuringly, backing up as if he realized his close presence was scaring her. "And I'm sorry for frightening you. It was just too hard to resist."

Lucy blinked, then blinked again. When she opened her mouth, all that her intelligent mind could manage was, "You know my name?"

Jellal looked surprised, and then a realization came over him. He muttered something under his breath, and to Lucy's utmost shock, slapped a hand to his forehead. The image would have been hilarious if she weren't so confused. He shook his head, speaking through the hand still across his face. "I thought Erza would have told you. Mavis, you must have been terrified."

"Er...za?" Much slower than she'd ever admit, it dawned on her. "You're the informant?"

Sighing, Jellal removed his hand and straightened his jacket. He looked over at Lucy, and she could see the regret in his eyes. "Yes. I'm sorry for not finding you sooner, though apparently you wouldn't have known me anyway. I've been trying to find you, but the timing hasn't been right. Imagine my shock when you just walked right up to me. It was a little difficult to recognize you without the blonde hair, though."

"You...you're the one who set me up with Angel?" Her mind was still reeling, trying to comprehend the situation. This man was her ally?

Jellal straightened, regaining some of his pristine regality. His eyes found her cheek, and she somehow knew he was looking at the mark on her face. Angel's last gift to her. "I'm sorry," he said honestly, and there was some feeling to his voice. Perhaps regret. "I know she can be brutal, but she was the easiest person I could steal you from. She has so many girls, it would hardly be noticed if one went missing."

"Except you went right up to her face and took me." Lucy touched the marks self-consciously, and Jellal's eyes found somewhere else to look.

He shrugged, a humorless smile ghosting his face. "You ran into me in the halls. Cobra and Hoteye were witness to it. I could have taken you for the pleasure of a pretty serving girl, or a new pet to torture. Either would be a believable story." He said the last part bitterly, resentment coloring his words. Suddenly Lucy felt a pang of guilt for him. How much had he had to endure, pretending to be a demon under Zeref's rule? How many had he been forced to hurt? How long had he had to wear that mask?

She knew about masks all too well. They were taxing, and she could see the toll it took on Jellal. Weary exhaustion lined his shoulders and mouth, and there was a dark shadow in his eyes. She knew that look, saw it every time she looked in a mirror. There was no escaping that sort of self-hatred. But there were ways to ease it.

Carefully, she reached out for his hand. He stilled at her touch, looking at her with sharp eyes. A little stiffly, she felt her magic rise. It ghosted through her, gaining courage and brightening by the time it reached her fingertips. She allowed it to go free, just a little, only enough to touch his.

His magic flared in response, and Lucy felt the smile rise to her face when a familiar sense to her own magic reached back. It felt strangely good to smile. She looked up, knowing that her eyes had probably begun to glow, but not caring. "Thank you," she told him honestly, her magic burning a little bit brighter with gratitude. Because there were indeed thanks to be given.

Jellal swallowed and nodded his head, accepting her thanks and the other, silent message she'd passed to him. She carefully drew her magic back, removing her hand from his. Her chest felt strangely full, as if just that touch of shared magic had filled in the cracks that had begun to fracture her soul.

Jellal's expression hardened, but she could see that he held his shoulders higher, as if a weight had been removed. His smile was a little less grim when he offered her one. "I know you have little reason to trust me, but you will have to in order for this to succeed. We are strangers, and I can't rectify that in a few days. Nor can I tell you everything. As it is we're going to have to play a dangerous game."

He moved toward the window, glancing out of it as if someone might be listening in. The diluted light shone over his red tattoo, and Lucy silently wondered what it meant. "I have managed to shield my mind from Cobra, but I can't shield you without him getting suspicious. However, his power isn't as vast as he likes people to believe. He can only hear your thoughts as long as you are within his sights, and he can't hear more than one person at a time. Keeping you away from him will be difficult, so when you're in his presence you cannot think of me as anything but your master."

"I understand," Lucy replied immediately. She'd played the obedient servant more times than she liked. She knew how that game was played. Lucy watched the way his shoulders tensed and untensed, and she had the feeling he was hiding something very important. "Is there anything else I should know?" She trusted him, as much as she could in this situation. He had Erza's approval, and she knew her red-haired friend would not have handed her life to that of a stranger.

Jellal turned, his face conflicted, trying to figure what information would be too sensitive to risk. "I found what you were searching for," he said carefully. Lucy gasped, but he continued onward. "I have a plan to retrieve it, and get us out of here. For now though you need to do what I say, when I say it. Are you willing to do that? It doesn't have to be you."

She realized belatedly that he was offering her an out. If she didn't want to, he would find some other serving girl to take her place. She would be able to stay in this room, under his protection. She would be safe.

A selfish little part of her wanted to take his boon. She had done so much already, risked so much. Did she want to give up her life as well?

Yes. She would, she discovered a little breathlessly. She would die if she had to. For this information, for the sake of all the people in this world, her life was nothing. She would gladly give it up if it meant freedom.

Lucy smiled. "Where do we start?"

* * *

They started in the dungeons apparently.

Jellal, true to his words, hadn't said much about what his plan was. Lucy didn't fault him for it, though she was annoyed that she'd be running it blind.

His first act had been to get her a change of clothes. He had let her use his shower, which Lucy was immensely grateful for, and had gifted her a well-fitting white shirt and a black skirt. The skirt was on the shorter side, and the shirt was tight around her bust, but Jellal told her it was the style that the higher-class servants wore. She wouldn't be bothered in such an outfit, even if she might be leered at.

It didn't seem to matter once they stepped out of the door. Jellal's cold, detached mask slipped back on, and Lucy ducked her head, ever the demure servant trying to avoid her master's wrath. They made their way down the hall, and while Lucy knew there were eyes watching, they weren't on her.

Well, not her directly. They mostly passed the lower-level demons and guards. No matter the status, all conversations went silent as Jellal passed. They watched him fearfully, shrinking back to give him as much space as they could short of becoming one with the walls and furniture. Lucy took it in with silent surprise, glancing at the blue-haired man from the corner of her eye. He didn't look particularly terrifying as they walked, but her memory flashed back to the look he'd given Angel. The perfected mask of a demon. She wondered how many had been on the receiving end of that face, and decided she didn't want to know.

She wanted to reach out to Jellal as she had earlier, comfort him with a silent pulse of magic. Her magic had conveyed everything that she could not with words, which the irony was not lost on her author brain. Magic was a living thing, a condensed fabrication of their feelings and history. She had told Jellal all he'd needed to know in that simple touch, and in turn gotten the same from him.

But she didn't need to feel his magic to know that he loathed what he had to become outside those doors. She'd heard it in his voice, seen it in the shadows of his eyes. Perhaps, if the rumors she heard following them were true, he had once been that monster. Not anymore.

Lucy did not get the chance to comfort him, nor did she dare let her magic reach out to him. No one had noticed in the privacy of his rooms, which were no doubt warded, but someone would pick up on the spike of light magic so far out in the open.

Besides that, Jellal quickly led them through the castle, Lucy stumbling after him as best she could. He had been unable to remove her chains beyond her shower, as all slaves were accustomed to wearing them. The short reprieve had been a cruel blessing, even if the sight of her raw wrists had made something in her gut clench. Putting them back on had almost made her reconsider his earlier offer, but she had forced herself to be still when he locked them back into place.

She really began to get curious when Jellal descended lower and lower through the castle. Her confusion cleared when they reached a thick black door, and he began leading her down a roughly hewn set of stairs. They were made of stone, but that didn't stop her from questioning their structural integrity. Jellal went down them fearlessly though, so Lucy had no choice but to follow.

The smell of rot hit her halfway down. She wrinkled her nose, trying not to gag on the stench. Were there dead bodies down here?

The end of the stairs brought a live person, though he was rather pale looking. He had a gruff face, distrustful and petulant. He was the first person to look at Jellal with anything beside fear.. Lucy wondered if he was stupid or spent too long down there.

"Lord Jellal," he greeted with a stiff bow. Lucy recognized the knight's badge on his arm in the dim lighting. She wondered how such a feeble looking man could be considered a knight, but she knew that Zeref's royal guards came in all shapes and sizes. They were only fronts, anyway. A semblance of order given for the humans they ruled to perceive.

"I'm here about the reports I asked for," Jellal said, sounding bored and devoid of any real emotion. Lucy kept her own face carefully blank as the man nodded, and turned around. They followed, and found themselves in a small room. An office of sorts, if the cluttered desk said anything. There was a heavy steel door behind her, deadbolted and locked, and a single cat picture on the wall. Outside of that the room was devoid of any furnishings.

"Here you are," the man heaved up a large folder, nearly bursting. "Death reports of the last fifteen years. At least, one part of them." The man looked up with watery blue eyes, sniffing. "What do you need with a bunch of dead people?"

She expected Jellal to dish out an angry, all-powerful "who is thy mortal to question me" sort of thing. He shocked her when a secretive smile slipped onto his face, almost scarier than his indifference. "The dead can tell us many things."

The man finally seemed a little disturbed too, because he backed up with a grimace. Jellal pretended not to notice, grabbing the folder. The thing was a few inches thick at least, but he gave it a cursory glance and looked back at the man. "The rest?"

"Being gathered as we speak, M'lord. Should they be sent to your room?"

"No. Keep them in the library. I will gather them myself. For now, I'll use your office to look through these." A command, and one the guard didn't look happy about but wouldn't dare oppose.

"Of course. And your servant?"

Lucy blinked at being addressed. She had already been planning to help Jellal read through the names, but she realized that slaves didn't know how to read.

"She's a healer," Jellal replied without flinching. He waved his hand to the door behind them. "Have her treat some of your wounded. The rotting flesh reeks."

"A-as you wish." Lucy looked to Jellal questioningly as the jailor began to unlock said door, but the man was already scanning through his papers. She glared, turning when she heard the hinges squeak. Trust, she reminded herself.

She followed the scrawny guard through the door, which opened into a large catacomb. On either side there were divots, with long bars between the floor and the ceiling. A dungeon, she realized slowly. The rotting flesh, as Jellal said, grew only more pungent.

The man closed the door behind them, relocking it and effectively shutting her off from her companion. Lucy silently grumbled, taking in the place with restrained disgust. Jellal's papers better be worth this.

"Here," the man grunted, thrusting a dingy pail into her arms. It was full of water, and heavy, and it almost ended up splashing all over her. She dared a glare at his back, but he was already grabbing rolls of bandages and shoving them towards her. "It doesn't need to be a perfect job. Just clean the wound and wrap it and move on."

Lucy nodded her affirmation and began to follow after him. It was awkward carrying so much with a chain linking her wrists, let alone the ones around her ankles.

Jellal hadn't lied when he called her a healer, though this wasn't the kind of healing she was used to. She healed with magic, had learned from an old friend of sorts how to do quick battlefield repairs. She'd never fixed more than a broken bone, especially not in the non-magical way with bandages and water.

"Lucky for you, our other healers ran through here earlier. Only two guys who need some," the jailor told her. Oh lucky me indeed.

Yet, Lucy let herself gaze into some of the cells they passed. Most were dingy, and so dimly lit she wasn't sure anyone was even in them. Her eyes sought out any familiar faces, but was disappointed and relieved when she found none.

They stopped in front of a better lit cell. There was a torch on the wall, illuminating the inside. A young man sat on the floor, leaning back and relaxing as far as she could tell. He even lifted his head and smiled when the jailor hit the bars. Lucy felt herself tense. There was nothing kind about that smile, or the wild look his red eyes took when they landed on her.

"Zancrow," the jailor summoned, and the man stood. He was bare from neck down, a pair of low-riding loose pants his only clothes. He had long blonde hair, spiked crazily around his head. It almost hid the blinking collar that was locked around his neck. Not chains, but his own kind of restriction.

"Well aren't you a pretty little thing," Zancrow cooed, swaggering up to the door. He smiled, revealing sharp teeth. "You should let her stay down here for a while. We're always looking for a bit of entertainment."

Lucy shivered, not wanting to know what his idea of entertainment was. The jailor only gave him an unimpressed look, motioning for him to stick his arms through the slot. "Shut up so she can wrap you up."

Zancrow did so, but Lucy had the sense it was for his own amusement rather than any obligation to following orders. The man locked a pair of thick cuffs around his wrists, and only when they were secure did he open the door.

The blonde man backed up when they entered, that unsettling smile still warping his face. Lucy shivered at the chill of the environment, taking a bit of pity as she viewed the decrepit looking cell. A little cot and a bucket in the corner were the only furnishings of the space.

"At the wall," the jailor commanded, pulling out a menacing looking stick. Lucy jumped when a bolt of electricity came out one end, the water sloshing at her motion. Zancrow's smile widened, and he placed himself against the wall, obediently lifting his bound wrists.

The jailor tied the chains to a notch that Lucy hadn't noticed, quickly ducking down to lock the man's ankles in place as well. Zancrow didn't move, but Lucy had a feeling he could have very easily crushed this man if he'd wanted to. As if sensing her thoughts, the blonde man looked up and winked, his smile turning feral.

Lucy gulped, fear rising, especially when the jailor stepped back and motioned her to do her thing. She crept forward, trying to stamp out that innate terror, but there was something about this man that had all the warnings in her head going off. Her magic guttered at him, confused between wanting to eliminate the threat or run from it.

She distracted herself with her task. There only seemed to be a long slice on his abdomen, shallow but bleeding well-enough. She reached into the bucket, finding a sponge there, and began to work.

Zancrow didn't speak as she cleaned the wound, but she felt him eyeing her the entire time. Like a predator sizing up its prey. She made sure not to rise to his hidden challenge, working quickly and effectively. The water reddened when she put the sponge back, and she grabbed the bandages to wrap it up. It was hardly healing but it would hopefully keep away infection. Or maybe she should just let him get infected. Maybe it would wipe the stupid smile off his face.

When her task was done, Lucy picked up the bucket and moved away. "Oh Doc," Zancrow called in a sugary voice that had her shivering. "You missed a spot."

She didn't want to, but she rose to meet his eyes. They were blood red, even darker than Gajeel's, and completely soulless. She didn't let herself breathe as she asked, "Where?"

Zancrow's smirk widened, noting the rebellion in her eyes. "Right here," he cooed, thrusting his hips off the wall. Lucy knew the implication, and her body grew hot with indignation and disgust. He laughed loudly at her expression.

"That's enough," the jailor grumbled, jabbing the stick at him. Zancrow grunted at the electricity rocking through him, but was still laughing.

That laughter followed Lucy all the way into the hall, and down to the next cell. Her skin crawled, body tense and on edge. Her magic roiled under her skin. Oh Jellal better have had a good reason for sending her here.

They reached the next cell, Zancrow's laughter fading into the background. This cell was dimmer, just barely lit enough for her to see a figure lying on the bed. The jailor whacked the bars to get his attention. His relaxed form stiffened as he rose, but Lucy had a feeling he'd been awake for a while.

He approached the bars steadily, looking out at them with cool dark eyes. Lucy felt herself stiffen when he came into view, and heat flared through her, though she couldn't begin to imagine why.

Like Zancrow, all he wore were a pair of pants, with the exception of a white scarf around his neck. No shirt but a scarf, really? He was in much worse shape than the other man. A red slash was already beginning to scar over his chin, another cut across his upper chest and one along the sides of his ribs still bleeding heavily. She idly wondered if her flimsy bandages would be enough for him.

He was tall, lean and packed with muscle. The thing that drew her curiosity was his hair, which was a dark pink. He was watching them warily, his eyes skipping over the jailor and latching onto her.

She felt like he could see right through her, all the way to the magic in her veins. It certainly wasn't helping that said magic was thrumming through her body, making her giddy with something she couldn't place. She tampered it down, shifting under his scrutiny. Suddenly it felt like she was the one behind the bars.

"Hands out," the jailor commanded. The man followed, tan arms sliding through the small gap. Lucy recognized faded scars around his wrists before the cuffs swallowed them. She tried to remember how to breathe while the door was pushed open and the man led back.

Like before, the jailor lifted his arms to that tiny hook. Except when he did it this time, Lucy noticed the brief flinch of pain that crossed the man's face.

"Stop," she said without thinking, her voice high in the dead air. Both men froze, staring at her. She flushed under their attention, biting her lip. "His side is injured. If you lift his arms like that it will tear more."

The jailor looked at said side, which was indeed bleeding heavier than before. Reluctantly he lowered the man's arms, glancing between the wound and her. "What would you have me do?"

"Just leave him." Really, did she have no self-preservation. Dangerous, bloody, probably-could-easily-kill-her-with-a-single-finger man and she just wanted to leave him, more than able to choke the life out of her. Those muscles certainly looked strong enough to do it. _Stop looking at his muscles!_

The jailor looked ready to protest, but the man cleared his throat. "I won't lay a finger on her."

His voice was deep, rich in a way that didn't belong to this country. She wondered where he came from, how he'd ended up here.

To her surprise, the man nodded at the prisoner's words, as if that were confirmation enough. She tried to not let it weaken her resolve when the jailor stepped back, and she was placed before the pink-haired man unbound.

She felt nervous again, but for a totally different reason now. He was looking down at her with those dark eyes, but there wasn't anything bad in his gaze. He was more so assessing her, wariness in his gaze, as if_ she_ were going to hurt _him_. She realized she could, if she'd truly wanted to. It made her sad. She wondered how many had abused that power.

"I won't hurt you, either," she swore in the silence. He blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. It melted away and he nodded, lowering his arms. She breathed in, grabbing the sponge and approaching him slowly. "I'm going to start with this cut on your chin."

He didn't say anything, but Lucy saw the acknowledgement in his eyes. He was still scanning her, but with curiosity now. She reached up to dab the cut, wondering how many of the healers bothered talking to them, if at all.

"This is a nasty one," she said. It was odd with her own voice filling up the voluminous silence, but she couldn't stand the quiet anymore. "It'll probably scar. I won't be able to wrap it."

She cleaned it and moved on. His eyes watched her all the while, silently taking in the information she offered. She talked mostly as a distraction, especially when she got to the cuts on his chest and side. They were deeper, and she was sure the water stung, even if his face didn't move.

By the time Lucy got to his side, the jailor was off checking on other cellmates who'd started a racket. So much for her brave protector, though she hadn't needed him anyway. Her patient hadn't moved once, only when she directed him to shift his arms for her to get better access. She tried to limit that movement, not wanting to aggravate his injuries.

Lucy moved to his side, having him raise his arms just enough to get a sight of his final wound. When she saw it up close, a hiss slipped through her teeth. His eyes shot to hers in a second, eyes questioning.

"It's infected," she muttered. Indeed the wound was already turning green around the edges, and pus was beginning to leak out with the blood. "How long have you had this cut?"

"A couple hours." Lucy blinked, not really expecting him to answer. She frowned at the information. The amount of infection that had set in shouldn't be possible after only a few hours. Even in such crappy conditions as this, it would take days to reach this level.

Tentatively she reached out, closing her eyes and letting the thinnest thread of her magic rise to the surface. It reached out, touching his wound, and was met with a wall of black. She pulled back immediately, teeth clenched. The man watched on, none the wiser.

Magic. Someone had used dark magic on him, though she had to wonder how. It wasn't particularly powerful, but if left untreated, it very well could have taken his life.

Lucy bit her lip. She tried to convince herself to pull away, but she looked up at those dark eyes and felt her resolve weaken. Carefully she trotted back to the door of the cell. A quick glance out assured her that the jailor was still busy with the other prisoners. She turned back, ignoring the curious look he was giving her.

She approached his side again, reaching out to ghost her fingertips over the wound. The dark magic nipped at her scathingly, as if sensing her own. She looked up at the man.

"Turn your face away," she commanded quietly. He blinked, raising an eyebrow, but did as he was told. She breathed in deeply, and pressed her palm against the wound.

Her magic slithered through her veins, coming out of her hand to touch his wound. It prodded into his skin, his ribs jumping with breath under the feeling. Lucy closed her eyes, magic pushing against the dark remnants in his skin. For a brief moment they fought, light against dark, and then with a push, the darkness broke. Her magic sunk into his skin, dispelling the curse, and removing the infection.

She pulled away before it could begin to heal the wound itself. Breathing deeply, she forced the magic low into her stomach and backed up. The wound had stopped bleeding, and began to scar. She sighed, but figured it was the best she could do short of healing it, which was a no-no.

Looking up, she found the man staring at her with wide eyes. She could see the surprised and half-terrified look he wore. For the first time, she noticed the collar blinking at his throat, hidden under that damned scarf.

Stupid. She was so stupid, but she couldn't say she regretted it. She pulled away, giving him a tired smile. "I'm sorry, but that's all I can do."

He didn't return it, instead surprising her when he asked, "Why?"

She knew he wasn't asking about her words, rather her actions. Lucy shrugged. "I hate to see people suffer."

Lucy turned away, gathering up her supplies and heading back toward the cell door. She could hear the jailor's footsteps returning, and she idly wondered if Jellal had felt that small pulse of magic.

She walked out the door, ready to head back to a room for a few hours of peace a quiet, when she heard a soft voice.

Lucy felt a smile work her face, but she didn't dare turn back around. The jailor approached, closing the door behind her and relocking it. He didn't say anything as they made their way back to the room where Jellal was still working.

"_I'm Natsu."_

Somehow she knew her secret would be safe.


	3. Chapter 3

Thunder growled across the land, shaking the kingdom that rested atop it.

Natsu looked up, watching the bits of dirt and debris rain down from the ceiling. His little cot shook with every hungry boom, the tremors racing through his already shaking body.

Natsu didn't get cold. Being a fire magician, even with his powers suppressed, enabled him to have a few special luxuries. He could eat flame to regain energy, he had better hearing and vision than normal people, and he _didn't_ get cold.

Except he was. Freezing, actually. His body shivered like a child's. The chill of the walls were too much for him now, and he was forced to sit in the center of his bed. He had his chin dipped into his scarf, the cold metal of his collar biting into his neck.

He thought about that girl. She was strange, and not just for the fact that she had magic. She was strange in the way she looked at him, and how gently she touched him. He remembered how soft her hands had been against his cheek, cleaning up his wound, looking like it was the most important thing in the world. The way she'd bitten her lip, her brown eyes full of unyielding determination. Natsu shivered again.

And of course, there was the magic. The fact that she had it wasn't so surprising to him. Most healers had some sort of magical inclination. It was the _type_ of magic that had shocked him. It had been pure light, glittering and golden as it traversed her body. A holy kind of magic, the type that old slave stories said were from the gods themselves. Had this slip of a girl stolen from a god?

Perhaps she was blessed by one, he thought wryly. Igneel used to tell him that those who bore the gift of fire were protected by Leo, guardian of the stars. Natsu didn't put his faith in any divine forces aiding him, but he let Igneel believe it. His adoptive father had told him all kinds of stories about the stars and gods. He had come from Crocus, before Zeref had destroyed it. A kingdom of stars, is what Igneel had called it. A city of life, handcrafted by the gods. Now it was just a land of death.

He could still taste the sizzle of magic in his mouth. She had only touched him for a brief moment, enough to heal him of the infection. Yet his soul had roared when that gentle magic filled him. It had shot through his veins, bringing to life forces that had been dormant since Igneel's disappearance. A fire had joined her light, twisting together in a heated, playful frenzy. He had felt it fill him, rising to his fingertips.

And then it was gone.

She'd pulled away, eyes a little brighter in the aftermath. She had breathed harshly, as if she too felt what he had, and then she'd looked at him. Her face flushed, chest heaving, eyes alight. And she'd smiled.

For the first time in a very long time, Natsu had wanted to smile back.

But she was gone, her gentle touch with her. In a bit of foolish hope he'd given her his name. He'd watched her stiffen, and then she moved forward, the door to his prison closing behind her. He watched her walk away, her own chains dragging against the sand, and a profound sort of sadness washed through him.

It was only hours later, when the prisoners had been calmed enough that it was mostly silent, that Natsu realized she hadn't bore a collar.

He wasn't sure what to do with that information. Healers had the power to heal, of course, but he'd never seen one without a band around their throat. Hers had only been pale skin.

There was nothing to do with that information. He wouldn't tell anyone, especially not when it dawned on him the risk she'd taken to heal his side. He wouldn't betray her kindness. And if not for that, then for her smile, which had eased something dark and hard in his chest.

Breakfast had come and gone. It wasn't truly morning, but the guards always brought them a final meal of sorts before their battles. Natsu had always requested breakfast, even if it was no _true_ breakfast.

He didn't know why, but he remembered a vague memory of sitting at a table, a plate of eggs and golden toast, and a long strip of some sort of meat in front of him. And then there had been a glass, filled with an orange liquid. It was sweet and maybe a little sour, but it had been delicious. The gaudy eggs and hardened bread they gave him weren't even close, but he asked for it everytime, and he made sure he ate every bite.

It was another few hours after that til they came to get him. Natsu had leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, willing away the image of that little healer. The cold feeling had eased, but it hadn't left him. A very distant and unwilling part of him recognized that it was a warning, a feeling of dread. Something was going to go wrong today.

When he heard their heavy boots approach, he didn't bother delaying the inevitable. He carefully unwound the scarf around his neck and placed it under his pillow. The last thing Igneel had ever given him, and his most treasured possession. He hesitated for a moment, that cold feeling returning. Reluctantly he grabbed it, and this time wrapped it around his waist.

By the time the guards reached him, he was already standing by the door, arms extended. They wasted no time before clipping their chains onto his wrist. Natsu hated them, but bore them with restrained resentment. His young life in the iron had earned him scars around his wrists that would never go away. He had many scars like that, some more visible than others.

They dragged him out of the cell, one man on either side and a third leading the charge. He walked between them steadily, keeping his head high and eye straight forward. He was taller than the two beside him, and definitely stronger than all of them, even without magic. Still, it would be suicide to try to escape. They'd have demons on him before he reached the stairs, and those were not people he wanted to fight with a collar still around his neck.

"Ho ho, go get 'em _Salamandra_," Zancrow garbled from his cell. Natsu ignored the slight and the disrespect to his name. Zancrow enjoyed pushing buttons, his in particular. Salamander, as he'd dubbed him, was a play on his title of dragon.

The guards avoided the stairs and headed through a little door at the back. A few twisting halls later, and they ended up in a small chamber. Natsu knew on the other side was the makeshift arena where they practiced and trained. This little room was one of the few for changing and battle preparation. Indeed, various armors were hung on the walls, though they weren't stupid enough to leave weapons.

They left him there, taking the cuffs off his wrist. He rubbed them sorely, eyes flinging to the armor stands as soon as the door closed. He didn't want to be, but part of him was excited for this fight. It would be epic, going against another dragonslayer. Natsu wondered what kind of magic he practiced, though he'd never get to know.

With practiced ease, he fitted himself in the armor. He made sure to dress lightly, only donning a breast plate, helmet, and shin guards. He chose a light, thinner piece of worn metal that would hold up under harsh hits, but keep him from being weighed down. Igneel had taught him that his advantage would be with speed, and he only needed protection on the important parts.

Ensuring that his scarf was carefully tucked into the waist of his pants, he strapped on an empty dagger sheath to his left arm. He had been trained in all sorts of weapons, from spears and javelins to maces and axes. He preferred to fight with a sword, like Igneel, but a back-up was never a bad idea.

A few minutes later had the guards coming back and escorting him into the training arena. The area was a large circle with alternating doors embedded in the walls that led to other storage and equipment rooms. In the center of the large area was a small ring, roped off with metal spikes. Two other gladiators who Natsu didn't recognize were going at it, simply in their shirts and pants. One had a long spear, the point cut off for training purposes. The other's wood sword lay a few feet from his reach, and he was defending himself from the rapid attack with his arms. Natsu heard the harsh smack of wood on skin, over and over, as he was led from the room. The boys looked younger, but Natsu already could see the bloodthirsty nature of the one with the stick. The other had determination, but that only got one so far.

Their fight faded from sight when he was led to a large wooden door. Two other guards lifted the block on it and pushed it open. As it moved, thunder grumbled overhead again. Natsu could just barely hear it over the cheers of the crowds.

The door opened to an inclined rampart, which would lead him to the arena where he would fight for his life. He could faintly see the light at the end of the tunnel, and the irony struck him. Thunder rumbled again as the guards grabbed his arms and began hauling him up the hill.

Dirt turned to sand, and the ever-present heat began to make its way down the dark, chilly tunnel. Natsu let it sink into his skin, burning away the cold dread he'd been feeling for the last few hours. The crowd grew louder, their stomping feet and boisterous yelling vibrating in the air. He breathed in, taking in the familiar scent of blood, metal, and sweat. He felt something in him settle, and he allowed himself to be taken over by the energy around him.

When he reached the end of the tunnel, the part of him that had wondered about a starry-eyed girl with golden magic was gone. The innocent part of him that cried at the anger and bloodlust was shrunken into that little black part of him. He took the image of Igneel, and he thrust it away. When he stepped into that arena, he was Ignis Draco. The Fire Dragon.

Taking the sword they offered him and slipping a little dagger into its sheath, he charged out into the ring with a roar on his lips and fire in his blood.

* * *

The stone box was stifling, yet Lucy was cold.

She shifted against the wall, the stone digging harshly into her thinly clad back. Her bound wrists were clasped around a golden chalice, resting lightly against her stomach. She was nothing more than a decoration, a pretty statue that only moved when her master called.

Lucy had assumed the role as soon as Jellal had entered the small viewing box. He'd told her of it beforehand, apologized even, but Lucy took the job with no complaints. Sure, after hours of standing, her legs were aching, and the blistering heat that resonated from the ground didn't offer her bare feet any solace, but she bore it with silence. She was a servant, and servants had no right to complain.

Her partner had been unusually quiet since their trip to the dungeons. He hadn't asked Lucy how it had gone, or about the burst of magic she was sure he must have felt. Instead he'd taken a look at her, nodded, and told the prison guard that they had found what they needed.

Silently he'd taken her to the library, which was so grand and filled with books that Lucy felt an old part of her soul swoon. How her small blue-haired friend would have loved to see this.

Jellal had led her through the arching shelves to a small alcove in the back. There, the librarian had directed them, were his desired information. Indeed, piles of the folders like the one from before rested on the table. However, he took a brief glance at the folders and turned away. Lucy had stumbled after him, daring to ask what he was doing. He'd only repeated what he'd told the jailor. They had found what they needed.

Hours later, Jellal sat ahead of her, at a small table laden with food. Lucy spotted a roasted bird and piles of something that looked like mashed potatoes. There were a few other foods she had not seen before, like a strange pink fruit that Cobra was currently sucking on.

Her master was joined by Cobra, who had seemed to have forgotten about their greeting if the discursery look he gave her said anything, and a tall man with a hood covering his face that she had heard Cobra call Erigor. Lucy hadn't gotten a good look at him, but the spiraling blue tattoos she could see over his shoulders gave her the chills.

The three were casually dining and talking, though they didn't seem to be doing much of either. Erigor didn't talk outside of a clipped greeting to Jellal, and he simply sat still in the corner of the booth. Cobra talked a little bit, but he was clearly still sore over Jellal telling him off earlier, even if he didn't seem to recognize the serving girl two feet behind him. He sulked moodily in his chair, sucking on the different fruits the table had to offer. Lucy was surprised and a little relieved to know that his snake wasn't with him, though he brought along an older-looking boy who was at the other wall, in a similar position as Lucy. She'd caught his eye a few times, but he'd been quick to look away. He was older than her by a few years, his black hair cropped short and a thin scar running across the right side of his face. He wore a strange red and orange striped shirt over black pants, his eyes a clear gray.

Jellal sat idly himself, not touching the food or calling her for a drink. The atmosphere was tense and a bit awkward, and Lucy couldn't help but feel that there were three large sources of power fighting for control in this small room. It made the air thick and hard to breathe.

Standing there for hours on end, Lucy tried not to let her mind wander, but as had happened multiple times throughout the evening, she thought of the pink-haired man. Her mind kept conjuring his dark eyes, and the careful way he'd looked at her. It sent strange shivers down her body, but those turned to dread when she remembered the collar around his throat, and his deep voice.

Natsu.

She knew it meant summer, which she found oddly accurate for him. His hair looked just like the cherry blossom leaves that used to flutter around in the spring. She remembered her mother taking her to see them blossom, watching the gusts of air turn the sky pink with the petals. It was especially beautiful when the sun began to set, casting the world in a soft golden glow.

Lucy slammed the memory shut, her heart thundering loudly in her ears. She hadn't thought of such things in so long. To have them assault her _now_ at all times…

She stiffened as Cobra turned around. Lucy's mind slid into a blank oblivion, repeating a soft mantra of submission and avoiding her master's wrath. She hoped her accelerated heartbeat passed off her fear, but Cobra wasn't interested in her. His eyes slid to the young man, motioning him to bring his drink with a flick of his wrist. The man did so, but Lucy noticed it was with a gait that seemed relaxed and at his own pace. Her eyes scanned his face, but it was blank when he handed the glass to his master. Cobra drank it deeply, sighing and thrusting it back. Lucy blinked when the man's expression turned displeased, but Cobra turned as if he hadn't noticed. He returned to the wall, his face once again like stone, leaving Lucy reeling to know if what she saw was right.

After a few minutes, she was saved from her boredom by the rising cheers of the crowd. Thunder had been rolling around the air, but no lightning had streaked across the dark skies. Lucy doubted they'd stop the festivities if the gods themselves came from the dark clouds.

It was a holiday of sorts, though Lucy didn't know which one. The crowds had been drawn in for merriment and bloodshed. She could feel the thrill of the people. Masses of them, crammed together, hungry for pain and suffering. It lit the stale air with something energetic, and even Lucy found herself eagerly looking out the window to the arena below. Though not without a sick twist in her gut.

They weren't high up enough that she couldn't make out the red staining the hands of the men in the arena below her. Torches had been set up around the perimeter of the area, casting shadows across the sand. Like some sort of sacrificial altar, she mused silently.

These two had been fighting for a while, though Lucy had done her best to block them out. She'd seen plenty of violence and blood in her life. She was no stranger to a fight or a battle of survival, but this was beyond her understanding. Pointless bloodshed, death, just for amusement. Simply for the enjoyment of those with power. Those who thought death was something to be manipulated and turned into a game. Lucy wondered what Hella, goddess of death, thought of this.

The fight seemed to have come to a closing. One man was standing over the other, spear pointed at his throat. His feet rested on the other man's arms, pinioning him to the ground. The man beneath him thrashed, spreading the red blood seeping from his legs across the sand. There were many cuts on him, and his own axe lay a dozen feet away. The standing man's spear was half gone, forcing him to hold it near the point. He bore his fair share of cuts, but there was victory clear in his stance.

Silence filtered through the crowd when the warrior looked up. Lucy followed his eyes to an even higher box, her heart filling with hate. In there was the tyrant who was responsible for all this darkness and death. Zeref.

The Dark King meted out his justice. With a single flip of his hand, he proclaimed whether the felled man lived or died. It truly relied on his amusement throughout the battle. If he was entertained enough, they would live. If not…

Zeref must have been feeling genial today, for her signed that the man was to live. The other backed away instantly, not bothering to help his opponent. Instead he lifted his arms in a sign of praise, the crowds cheering for him loudly. The other simply laid there, waiting for the time where he would be allowed to leave. He hadn't fought well, Lucy had noted. She eyed the box skeptically.

This pattern continued on, the torches casting longer and longer shadows as the sky's cries became louder. Three more fights went by, and Zeref allowed all to walk away with the victory of their lives. The cold feeling in Lucy's chest grew as each fight passed. Something was not right.

Jellal called her forward for his glass as a hush seemed to spread across the stadium. Lucy froze at his side, missing his command for a drink. She couldn't hear him, her mind focused on the man who had walked into the center of the stadium.

Lucy would recognize him anywhere, if not for the mane of black hair, than for the glittering iron that stuck out of his body. Iron forced into him as a child, as a creative punishment thought up by one of his old slaveholders.

She mouthed his name, but her throat made no noise beside a small squeak. Jellal looked at her and seemed to piece it together, his lips thinning. He tried to shake her out of it with a touch to the arm, but Lucy was far beyond her own body. She was down in that stadium, staring up at the man who stood so proudly in the center of it. Thankfully the others were too busy looking at the newcomer to notice her insubordination. Even Erigor moved closer to see better.

He was clad in a silver breastplate, his weapon of choice, the hammer, lying by his side. He was tall and imposing, a slightly cruel smirk curling his lips. His red eyes scanned the rousing crowds with interest. For all the world, he looked exactly as she'd seen him months ago, before they'd freed him from Phantom's iron grip.

But there were differences. Lucy saw the faded scar along his jaw, and the way he clenched and unclenched his fists. She could see the nerves in the curve of his back and the way his eyes darted, though he certainly put on a good show.

_Why him._ It had barely been four months since Gajeel had left his own nightmares behind, and now they were throwing him right back in? Perhaps that was the very reason why, but Lucy's chest felt tight. She pictured the scary-looking man as she'd last seen him, relaxing with her petite blue-haired friend. He'd been clad in comfortable clothes, his hair pulled back, a soft expression in his face as he gazed down at the little woman. An expression that was getting softer by the day, much to his chagrin and Lucy's amusement. Just a few weeks ago she'd been _teasing_ him for his crush, silently grateful that she'd given him that gift. _Why was he here._

Then the crowd burst into rancorous cheering. Lucy jumped, thrust back into her own skin at the noise. She turned to look at Jellal, her eyes wide and fingers clenched in fear. A second later she had her gaze back on the field, and her soul fell at the figure who walked in.

Dark eyes blazing in the firelight, sword firmly in his grip, pink hair swaying in the phantom breeze, Natsu took the stage. His eyes were on Gajeel, sizing him up, and a feral grin leapt to his face.

_"Now commences the battle of two dragon slayers! Ignis Draco versus Nigrum Ferro!"_

* * *

Ignis Draco took in his opponent. Nigrum Ferro they called him. He knew that name, the famous Black Steel. Last he'd heard, the dragon slayer had escaped, slipped right out of Phantom's fingers. Zeref himself had gone to Alycpha to berate Lord Jose for his mistakes. _What was he doing back here? _

Ignis didn't care. Whatever his reasons, he was his newest opponent. His newest obstacle. His newest victory.

Nigrum Ferro eyed him back. His eyes were like Zancrow's, but brighter. There was a cautious sanity behind those eyes that the blonde did not posses. Ignis smirked at that. Perhaps this opponent might be interesting.

The men stepped around each other, keeping space as they sized each other up. Ignis smelled steel and blood on this man, as well as something a bit softer. There was a different image to him than Ignis had been expecting. He'd heard fearsome things about this man and his warhammer. A god of vengeance reincarnated, they'd called him. Ignis thought he was certainly sharp, but there was a bluntness in his gaze. Whatever had happened during his time away, Nigrum Ferro's razor edge had become dull.

Distantly he heard the announcer call them out to the crowd, starting their battle. Ignis's blood heated, but he didn't jump to attack. The crowd roared around him, eager for blood. He felt that he shared their cries.

Ignis took a testing step forward, keeping his eyes locked onto his opponent. Dull or not, this was not a man to let his guard down around. Dull blades still cut, and if he let it, they would kill, too.

Hammer lifting, Nigrum Ferro did him the honor of attacking first. He stepped in, swinging his large weapon, and let it fly towards Ignis. He hadn't expected such speed from the bigger man, and he barely managed to dive out of the way in time. Ignis hit the sand with a growl, on his feet and charging a second later.

Their weapons clashed and sprung apart. Ignis darted around him, trying to get a hit to his vulnerable backside, but Nigrum moved away faster. Back and forth they went, trading hits and growls. Ignis could feel his draconic heritage twisting his body, making him push harder, and saw that Nigrum Ferro was doing the same. Red eyes slitted, he growled to reveal pointed teeth, springing forward.

Ignis took a fist to the gut, backing up a step and then kicking out. Nigrum Ferro's leg slid sideways at the pressure, but then his other one was shoving him back.

Minutes, hours passed. Ignis kept his wall of fiery fury, but Nigrum Ferro was strong and determined. He beat back that wall, blunt edges and all, and Ignis could feel it caving under the hits. He ducked under a stray fist, jabbing forward with his sword. It made a thin slice along the other man's bicep, but he roared and charged again, hammer swinging.

The hammer hit his side, right atop the newly healed wound on his ribs. Ignis felt his bones creak at the impact, breath flinging out from him. He didn't get the chance to recover when an uppercut took him unaware. He fell to the side, vision swimming, teeth rattling.

Nigrum Ferro landed hit after hit, his fists almost as hard as his hammer. Ignis took them, but that was all he could do. He tried to block and dodge as best as he could, but his body ached and he could feel the bruises springing along his body. He wouldn't be surprised if that first hit had broken a few of his ribs.

He saw the kill shot at the same time that Nigrum Ferro did. His hammer was already swinging, ready to land the hit to his chest that would take him out, but there was a pause. The swing didn't come, and Ignis saw red eyes looking at him, something like reluctance in them.

Ignis took that chance to breathe. The hammer stopped, hovering above him. Somehow he was on his back, the sand hot beneath him. He could hear the crowd, some booing, others cheering. He felt the ground shake with a large burst of thunder. He felt one hand reach down to touch the soft fabric of his scarf. He clutched it, taking comfort in it, breathing in and out. He looked up at Nigrum Ferro, who still had yet to move. The man was already switching, readying a move that would not be so fatal. Ignis didn't give him the chance.

His fingers locked around the small dagger. In the time it took Nigrum ferro to swing down, he had pushed off the ground, darting under the hit, and thrust up into that little sliver of his breastplate.

They were eye-to-eye. Ignis felt the man freeze under him, red gaze flickering down to where the little blade had sunk into his chest. He looked back up, a sort of sad understanding in his eyes. Ignis felt that look shoot through him, almost as if he'd been the one who'd gotten stabbed. His eyes widened, and he released him, stepping back.

For a moment Nigrum Ferro stood standing. He looked at Natsu, and it was such a terrible look. He shook, wanting to kill him just for the simple _understanding_ in that look. Then, as if the strings that had been holding him up were cut, Nigrum Ferro fell backwards.

He hit the sand with a hard clunk. His arms were spread, blood already pooling from that one little wound. His hammer lay abandoned by his thigh.

The man groaned, a gurgling sound in his throat as the blood began to bubble up. Natsu was at his side in a moment, weapons and fighting forgotten. Panic overtook him. He hadn't meant to kill. He hadn't meant to do _this_.

But the blow was fatal. Nothing would stop Nigrum Ferro from dying. Hella would take him on her dark wings. And it had been by Natsu's hand.

The crowds cheered viciously around him. Natsu didn't hear them. He was lost in a sea of darkness, devoid of feeling or sound. He barely knew what he was doing when he reached forward to clasp his opponent's hand. For the first time he noticed the metal spikes throughout his body, crudely hammered into bone no doubt. Red eyes met his again, and Natsu felt a choked sound come out of his throat. He distantly realized it was a sob.

For a moment it wasn't Nigrum Ferro staring up at him, shuttering his last breaths. It was Igneel, his red hair streaked with gray, face lined with scars from battles he'd survived. It was his father's eyes that stared up at him, dark and full of that damned understanding.

"No," he pleaded softly, gripping the thick hand under him. Nigrum Ferro came back into sight, but it did not ease the crushing in Natsu's chest. This was his brother. He had killed him. "_No."_

"Don't blubber on me," the man sighed. He coughed and a bit of blood came up. He spit it to the side, eying Natsu shrewdly. There was a brightness to those red eyes.

Natsu didn't know what to do. Heal him, he had to heal him. His gaze shot up, scanning the area for healers. Of course there were none, but he searched anyway. He thought of the girl who'd healed him. She would. She would save him.

"Kid." He looked down at the garbled word, choking back another sob. Already those bright eyes were beginning to grow duller. He blinked them, and a slow smile moved his lips. It was a real smile. "That was a good fight. I would've….would've like to fight ya again."

"You will," Natsu assured him, squeezing his fist tighter. Thunder echoed again, and Natsu felt like the gods were screaming down at him. His eyes searched again for any healer.

Nigrum Ferro laughed, the sound childish and almost ridiculous coming from his mouth. He coughed, and he lifted his eyes to stare above Natsu's head. At the sky, he realized. "At least she didn't have to see me like this," he whispered.

For a single moment, Nigrum Ferro's eyes sparkled in the light of the torches. Natsu saw them burn, hotter than any fire he'd ever witnessed. And then, they went out. His body stilled, and the flame known as Nigrum Ferro burned no more.


	4. Chapter 4

Natsu was in the dark. There was a tidal wave of noise around him, colors and shapes dancing in the distance. He tried to move toward them but he was stuck. Chained. Left in this darkness. The black air condensed around him. The colors got farther, the noise faded, until both were completely gone. He was on his knees, but he couldn't feel the ground beneath him. His chest moved, but he couldn't breathe. All there was, was darkness.

Then a light appeared above him. He craned his head up to see it, squinting his eyes. A single white dot in this land of black. It shone down on him, barely distinguishable. Then he noticed another, and another. More and more they appeared, just little dots in the sky. They kept coming until Natsu wasn't looking up at blackness, but a sea of white.

Natsu thought someone was screaming. He heard it, a rising crescendo filled with pain and misery. It came out of the white. A single, pure scream.

A wave of energy knocked into him, rolling through his body and leaving his fingertips tingling. He blinked, shocked back into reality. The sand came back into view, and then the stadium, which was in turmoil. Voices were shouting all around him, but he still heard that scream above it all. He was kneeling, hands on either side of Nigrum Ferro's prone form. His red eyes still stared up at the stars, unseeing and oddly peaceful.

Another blast rocked through him. This time he recognized the feel of it, and his head darted up. The scream was louder, feminine, and his eyes widened when he saw the beam of light. It shot from the sky, golden and shining. It was coming from one of the observer boxes. For a moment the arena was bathed in that glow, that unearthly shriek splitting through the air.

The next, the arena exploded. The light burst outward, ripping apart stone and flinging people. Natsu turned away from the carnage, blinking the stars out of his eyes. He felt the glow bathing him, and this time he knew who was behind it. He had felt this magic in his own veins before.

When the blinding light disappeared, he looked back, and the sight knocked the breath from him. She was there, surrounded by the rubble, and she was glowing. Soft golden light filtered around her, weaving through her fingers and her hair. She was ethereal, arms spread and lights shooting from her fingers. But it was her eyes that had Natsu captivated. They were open, and burning as if two stars had taken residence in her face. _She looked like a goddess_, he thought. _An angry one. _

The scream was coming from her still-parted lips. A scream of anguish and heartbreak, filtering through the air and silencing everyone else. Natsu watched, frozen in place as she began to make her way across the field toward them. She glided over the rubble, stray spectators scrambling to get out of her way. Her eyes didn't move from their goal, and Natsu sat, paralyzed over Nigrum Ferro's body, as she moved closer and closer, her eyes burning brighter with every step.

She joined him, and her lips closed, cutting off the terrible sound. Her eyes found his, and he expected her to incinerate him there. A goddess come to earth. It would only be fair that he die to her wrath for his sins.

Surprising gentleness smoothed her features, and she reached out to brush a glowing hand across his forehead. Her skin burned him, sending waves of magic through his body. He grunted at the impact of it, feeling that it meant no harm, but it pushed against him harshly. Natsu's head bowed under the force of it, his magic being dragged out of the depths and rushing forward. He grit his teeth against the pain, feeling as if he was erupting from the inside out. The heat grew blinding, and just when he thought he might break, it stopped. Natsu felt some invisible line snap, and then he was free.

Gasping, he pulled back and gaped up. She had already moved away, kneeling beside Nigrum Ferro. Natsu blinked sluggishly, his mind muddled. He watched distantly as she placed one hand on Nigrum Ferro's mouth, the other on his chest, right over where he'd been stabbed. Her limbs glowed brightly against his skin. She closed her eyes, leaning down until her forehead was to his, and began whispering. Natsu did not recognize the ancient words, but he felt their power in his very core. His magic responded to it, thrashing and singing of freedom.

From a distance the position might have looked intimate, her hair falling to cover their faces. A silver tear slid down her still-glowing cheek, and onto the man's skin. While she leaned over him, Natsu realized with surprise that her glow was diminishing. It was being transferred into Nigrum Ferro's prone figure, until all that was left was a young girl leaning over a man.

When all the magic was sucked up, she leaned back back slowly, eyes still closed. She pulled her hands away, clasping them in her lap and tilting her head up to the sky. Her lips moved, muttering something silently, and then she became still. For a moment Natsu feared the very worst, but she suddenly gasped and opened her eyes. She blinked up at the stars, and slowly turned her head towards him. Her eyes stared at him, a soft brown.

She blinked owlishly, confusion and startlement crossing her features. Natsu would have laughed at the expression if he could figure out which way his emotions were going. As it was he was trying to wrap his head around what he had just witnessed. Something was roiling in him, and he felt his magic ebb and flow, testing this new freedom. He reached up for his neck, fingers meeting warm skin. He looked down and saw two halves of his collar sitting in the sand, completely destroyed by her magic.

The situation they were in seemed to come back to him immediately. He looked back over to where she'd destroyed the colosseum, seeing people running around in terror. Already he saw the figures she'd buried under the gravel rising, looking none too pleased. He heard shouts of fright, the stampeding of the crowd. His eyes darted to the imposing tower in the distance, but he could not see Zeref amidst the confusion.

A gasp pulled him back to the scene in front of him. He looked down, shock coursing through him when the man he'd just stabbed began to move. Nigrum Ferro jerked as life returned to him, coughing. For a second his eyes flashed, as blinding as the girl's had been. He blinked and they were normal, if not confused. He looked toward Natsu, brow furrowing.

The girl laughed, a wet sound that was clogged with tears, and attacked him with a hug. The other man froze, looking down at the female squeezing him to death. "Bunny Girl?" He murmured, a hand rising to pet the head of brown hair buried in his shoulder.

"You're okay!" She pulled back, her eyes burning ferociously in the torchlight. "_You're okay_."

"Apparently," Nigrum Ferro grunted, pushing her back, albeit with a gentleness Natsu didn't think the man possessed. He sat up slowly, fingers going to the spot where Natsu had stabbed him. He pulled his hand back, clean. "What?"

"We have bigger problems," Natsu interrupted, startling the two from their wonderings. They looked at him, mistrust shining in their eyes. To his surprise, it was Nigrum Ferro who nodded, pushing himself to his feet. He stumbled and the girl leapt to his side, putting an arm around her neck and helping him stand.

Natsu shoved himself up, head feeling light with the amount of power flowing freely through his veins. His magic rose to his arms, reassuring him, and he cautiously let it roll to his fingers. In seconds his hands were coated with thick flames that would burn anyone outside of himself.

"Well shit," Nigrum Ferro muttered, pale face alight in Natsu's flame. "And here I thought it was just a nickname."

Natsu snickered at that, his heart twisting with painful joy. "Is yours?"

Nigrum Ferro gave him a feral smile at that, and Natsu found he couldn't help but liking the man. In another world, he wondered if they'd have been friends.

"What happened here?" The girl whispered softly, taking in the chaos around them. Her eyes widened when she spotted two figures across the field. "Midnight! Cobra!"

The two men turned to see their oncoming threats. Natsu growled at the sight of another dragon slayer, one he knew he'd never be able to get along with. Cobra was a traitor, a vile snake. Speaking of which, Natsu saw that he was missing a familiar one twisting around his neck.

"You happened," Natsu told her in response to her question. He gave her a cursory glance. "Are you a goddess or something?"

He was only half-joking. As far as he knew, only the gods could bring people back from the dead. But the girl looked at him scandalized. "I–what? I'm not!"

"Wouldn't be too sure about that Bunny Girl," Nigrum Ferro said, absently rubbing that spot on his chest. Natsu felt the guilt course through him like a bucket of ice. His flames guttered, and he had to force them to steady.

She looked at them, her eyes dancing with some kind of emotion that Natsu couldn't place. It almost looked like panic, but that couldn't have been right. He wasn't allowed a closer look when she spun away, preparing to face her opponents. "Whatever happened, the plan is messed up now. Jellal said he found what we need. But this is the perfect opportunity."

Plan? Natsu looked between the two of them, and finally it clicked in his slow brain. "You're part of the resistance." It wasn't a question, and Natsu felt a bit of awe fill him. He'd heard tales about the resistance, each one grander than the last. Part of him had believed they were as real as the gods Igneel prayed to. The idea of anyone fighting against Zeref seemed ludicrous. But...here they were. And one of them could bring back the freaking dead.

He began to think the gods weren't sounding so far-fetched anymore.

The girl shot him a half-amused look, but turned at the sound of Nigrum Ferro's grumbled, "What's the perfect opportunity?"

"It's now or never," she replied. She straightened, and there was a dark, vengeful look on her face. It made her look older, and scarier. "I'm going to take out Zeref."

Natsu's mind went blank. Nigrum Ferro stared at her in surprise, then burst. "Yer what?! Ya think I'm gonna let that happen? Yer crazier than that red armor bitch queen if you believe that!"

But she was already dancing away. Neither of them had time to react before she ran, tossing a "Erza will kill you if she finds out that's what you call her," over her shoulder. She smiled winningly, and then she was gone, disappearing into the crowd of swarming people. They stared after her with open mouths.

"I'm gonna kill that woman," Nigrum Ferro growled, clenching his fists together. His teeth nashed irritably. "She's gonna die and then i'm gonna kill 'er again."

"Let's focus on _you_ not dying again," Natsu said, approaching the tall man. Their two opponents were closer now, fighting against the swarm of people to reach them. Natsu reached up, grabbing the collar glittering around Nigrum Ferro's neck. "Now, let's see where you get your nickname from."

The collar was surprisingly easy to break with his renewed strength. The pieces fell to the floor at their feet, and Nigrum Ferro flexed his fingers, no doubt feeling the power return to him. He laughed that ridiculous sounding laugh, and Natsu couldn't help but smiling back.

They turned toward their opponent. "Try not to kill me this time," Nigrum Ferro said, snarky. Natsu bore his teeth in a fanged smile, and they prepared to meet their match.

* * *

Natsu grunted as he hit the ground, rolling to the side quickly to avoid a sword to the face. He twisted back onto his feet, his own blade rising to block a second hit. He grit his teeth, pushing back against the mad who was fighting him.

Cobra had glared when he'd spotted the pink-haired man amidst the chaos. He had warned Zeref it wouldn't be a good idea, but his king had not listened. And now he was fighting a fire lunatic with a flaming sword.

Indeed the metal was aflame, a trick that Natsu had always wanted to try. It didn't really do much, but it sure looked cool. Natsu figured he was going to die here, so he might as well go out looking good. Maybe someone would even write a song about him one day. The pink dragon with a blade of fire.

"Get yer head out of yer ass," Nigrum Ferro commanded from his right, ducking another one of Midnight's shadow spears. The man himself was not very threatening, and indeed he preferred his long range attacks. Adding to the fact that anytime Nigrum Ferro got too close, his hammer would simply be thrust away by an invisible force. He wasn't using his own magic, still too wiped out from his return to life to access it reliably.

"Focus on your own fight!" Natsu protested hotly, pushing off his back foot and shoving Cobra back. He avoided the quick slash the man sent to his side, barely dodging getting nicked. Poison was Cobra's poison of choice. The blades he used were coated with it. Natsu's burning right leg had learned that the hard way.

Natsu knew Cobra could have taken him out very easily. The poison dragon slayer had been trained in the same arts as Natsu, and he had comfortable access to his magic. Natsu's was being a fickle bitch. He could feel it thrumming, eager to be out and about after being hidden for so long. But it was too temperamental to do any serious moves with. He wouldn't dare attempt a dragon roar with Nigrum Ferro so close by. He'd burn them all as soon as he'd burn his enemies.

Nigrum Ferro and Natsu fought well together. They'd moved with a fluid kind of grace that only came from years of fighting together. They achieved it within minutes, dodging and trading partners with ease. Natsu had managed to get a few slices in on Midnight before they'd switched dancing partners. It appeared whatever magic he used couldn't defend against physical attacks.

Cobra, it seemed, was more interested in dominating than winning. A dragon slayer show of pride no doubt, but one that might guarantee them the victory. Natsu danced around another wide slash, breathing heavily. Still, it was hard to balance physical attacks and magic ones. He was releasing too much magic for a simple hit, he knew, but there was no outlet to control it. It'd been far too long since he'd had access to his fire. He was rusty, and him and Cobra knew it.

On top of that, Natsu was worried about that girl. Bunny something Nigrum Ferro had called her? She was crazy. _Facing Zeref _was crazy, even with the kind of power she wielded. If she could bring back life, than Zeref made sure things _stayed_ dead. It wasn't a fight she could win, and he hoped for her sake that she never found the one she was searching for.

Natsu nearly bent over backward to dodge Cobra's sneaky roar. A plume of poison erupted over his face, and he quickly held his breath, turning away. His eyes stung from the fumes, but he refused to breathe it in.

Cobra laughed, jabbing at him again and again. Natsu parried and blocked, twisting behind some rubble to catch a breath. Mavis, he forgot how tiring this was. He made a silent promise to whatever gods were out there that he'd train his magic if he lived through this. The sky rumbled ominously as if in answer, and Natsu glared at it. A second later his safety was broken apart and he scrambled away, swearing.

Natsu stumbled back onto the field, glancing at his partner. It seemed Nigrum Ferro had broken through the barrier, and he was swinging his hammer at Midnight's unprotected face. He didn't have time to admire as Cobra was back on him in a second, cruelty lighting up his eyes.

He grunted, dropping a shallow slash to Cobra's knee. He was surprised when the hit landed, but it was short lived when steel bit into his shoulder. Natsu yelled, ripping himself away. He grabbed his shoulder, feeling blood and poison. The wound pulsed, and he felt his vision go hazy.

"The _great_ Ignis Draco," Cobra seethed, prowling closer with a menacing smirk. "How the mighty have fallen. If only Zeref could see you now."

_Zeref?_ Natsu thought woozily. _Why would Zeref care about me?_

"Golden child. The little angel boy." He scoffed. "There isn't anything _angelic_ about you," the man hissed, eyes narrowing. Natsu stumbled backwards, nearly falling over on a stray piece of debris. Was it his imagination, or were there purple dragons floating around Cobra's head?

"You're crazy," Natsu mumbled.

"No," Cobra denied, stopping. His grip tightened on his sword and Natsu saw his eyes dart to his bare neck. Natsu's own gaze fell to the collar still around Cobra's throat. "I'm the only sane one here."

The man charged forward, and Natsu raised his sword to defend himself. His vision blurred and the flames had been put out, but he refused to go out lying down. He braced himself as Cobra neered, blade raised.

There was a rush of air, and the sound of something coming toward them. Cobra didn't have time to move when a block of iron slammed into him and sent him flying. The expression of shock on his face was priceless, but Natsu couldn't judge as his own mouth fell open.

"Seriously, do ya ever shut up?" Natsu turned to his savior with a grin. Nigrum Ferro was standing there, his arm thrusted outwards. Midnight lay in a bloody heap behind him, chest barely rising and falling. Nigrum Ferro's stance was wide, his face a little bloody, but a satisfied smirk on his lips. The image would have looked cool if Natsu weren't seeing little cartoon sparkles glitter around him. Or if his arm didn't appear to be made of metal.

Natsu blinked when Nigrum Ferro laughed, and that long piece of metal shrunk back into his body, becoming his arm. He blinked again. The sparkles were gone, but the not-metal arm was still there. Natsu wondered what kind of poison this was.

"Ya alright there Salamander?" Nigrum Ferro called. From where he lay in a crumpled heap, Cobra let out a pitiful moan. Natsu shook his head, stumbling toward his ally.

"Just fine," he grumbled, staggering over the rocks. "Only a little scratched. I'll be fine." He swooned, and Nigrum Ferro reached out to stop him from falling.

"Yer fucking high," he deadpanned, looking at Natsu's blown irises. The fire dragon slayer scoffed, his head flopping backwards. The stars reeled above him, and he swore he heard someone laughing at him.

"I'm fine, fine," he dismissed, swatting the man's hands away. He glared toward Cobra's form, which was still on the ground. "I coulda taken him." He wheeled on his partner. "Wait, what did you call me?"

Nigrum Ferro raised an eyebrow, apparent amusement on his face. "Salamander?"

Natsu frowned. He thought of Zancrow and his frown deepened. "I am _not_ a salamander. I am a _dragon_."

His partner snickered. "Dragons don't get high off a little poison."

"I'm not high!"

A moan of pain broke their argument. They looked over to watch Cobra shakily raise himself onto his arms. He was gaping, having a little trouble regaining the breath in his lungs. The hit had broken a few of his ribs at the very least. Their bickering sobered as they approached him. Nigrum Ferro moved to finish the man off, but Natsu held out a hand. The man looked at him and nodded, backing off.

The poison might have been making him see a few weird things, but Natsu already knew how to end this. He bent to pick up his fallen blade, walking over to the downed man. Cobra glared up at him when he approached, but a leg facing the wrong direction assured them that he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"You're gonna kill me," he spit, eyes full of hatred. Natsu didn't say anything, stopping in front of him with his sword held up. Cobra glared up at him and turned his head away. His eyes closed, acceptance running through his body. He only regretted that Cubellios was not with him, but perhaps that was for the better. He wouldn't have wanted her to see this, or suffer the same fate. "Make it quick."

Natsu looked down at the man. His brother, even if he felt no love for him. They were the same, deep down. He didn't know what had happened to make Cobra this way. He didn't know what prompted such deep hatred in his eyes, but Natsu had enough of playing god.

He lifted his sword and swung down.

The collar made a hissing noise when he cut it. It split in half, sparking, and fell to the ground. Natsu looked at it, at his brother who was staring at it with curiously wide eyes, and turned away. Cobra didn't say anything as he walked away, but Natsu hadn't expected him to.

He made his way back to Nigrum Ferro, exhaustion weighing heavily in his gut. The poison stung faintly, but he could feel that his magic had burned away the majority of it. His vision was still a little goopy around the edges, but there was only one Nigrum Ferro when he looked at his comrade.

The man was watching him with curious red eyes, but there was no judgement in that gaze. Natsu felt that he wouldn't have judged him if he had decided to follow through with the cut, either. He didn't seem like the sort of man who made his opinions known. Still, he thought he caught a glimmer of respect before he turned away.

They stood in the empty courtyard. Natsu looked around the colosseum, taking in the abandoned bleachers and trashed sides. How many times had he fought in this very spot? How many had he slain, simply because he had wanted to live a little longer? He looked down at the bloody field, and made a silent prayer to those gods again. _Never again would he take someone else's life._

The sky grumbled in response.

* * *

Life was just not going Lucy's way.

She darted behind another pillar, the one she had previously been hidden behind blowing up in response to Angel's attacks. She panted, chest heaving, the cold stone digging harshly into her back. She knew she couldn't remain there long, but she needed a freaking break.

As soon as she'd snuck away from Gajeel and Natsu, she'd slipped back into the castle to head toward the throne room. It was where Zeref did most of his business, Jellal had informed her, and she expected that he'd be there if not somewhat close.

Thinking of Jellal made her feel bad. She didn't know what happened to the blue-haired man, or what had happened in general. One moment she'd been watching Natsu and Gajeel fight, then the next she was beside them and the world had gone to chaos. She felt drained, and there had been something odd in the boy's expressions, as if _she_ were the one responsible for all of this.

Lucy heard the all-too familiar sound of air being sucked in. She sprinted away just as a blast of wind decimated the beam she'd been hiding behind. Angel's cruel laughter followed her behind the next pillar. They'd been playing this game for a good half hour, almost since she'd left the boys. Figured that she'd run into trouble as soon as they split up. It especially didn't help that her magic was null. Even pulling out enough to shield herself from falling debris had been a challenge that left her vision spinning.

A very vague part of her registered that Gajeel had died. She knew it, had _felt_ it somehow. She'd sensed the moment when his soul had left, and then she'd broke. She knew she'd played some role in restoring him, though she couldn't begin to explain how. It was like someone else had entered her body, and she had just been a spectator. Her limbs had moved on their own, her lips whispering words that held no meaning to her mind.

Whatever she'd done had worked though, even if it left her feeling like she hadn't eaten for days. Lucy didn't care. She'd stopped caring when Gajeel had looked back at her, his eyes full of life. She didn't care how she'd done it or what it had taken from her. Gajeel was alive and nothing else mattered.

Of course then there was the matter of Natsu. Lucy wasn't sure how to feel about that. He'd killed Gajeel, even if a part of her knew it hadn't been on purpose. She'd seen the grief in his face, recognized his guilt, but that didn't stop a small part of her from hating him. She'd nearly lost something precious to her due to a stranger. A stranger she had risked her own skin to heal.

Yet, she trusted him. Her magic did at the very least, which was the sole reason she had left him with Gajeel. He was strong, he'd protect the stubborn iron dragon. If he didn't, she'd haunt him in the afterlife.

"Come out, come out little traitor," Angel cooed. Lucy dug her fingers into her skirt, or what was left of it. It had been burned off by the angel's first attack, and barely enough was left to cover her. She cursed their ridiculous fashions. She couldn't wait to return to pants.

At the very least her chains were gone. They'd seemingly melted off during her, well, whatever the hell she'd done. She wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Her hands and feet were free, and she could run without restriction. Of course, outside of the giant angel trying to blow her up.

How ironic that Angel commanded angels. Lucy had been confused when the girl had pulled out a couple of gold coins and thrown them in the air. That confusion cleared up pretty fast when a fifteen foot, golden freaking _angel_ appeared out of thin air and tried to smite her out of existence.

She'd been dodging and weaving as much as she could, but it was about all she could do. She had no magic to defend herself with, and even if she did, she didn't know how to beat an angel. It was a gods damned _angel_ for Mavis sake.

Another breath of air, and the pillar to her right exploded in a fiery inferno. Lucy gulped. She truly had no idea what she'd been thinking, running off to pick a fight with Zeref. Maybe she'd figured the plan was screwed and they'd all probably die, anyway. She truly had no self-preservation. She just hoped Gajeel was doing better than her.

"Get out here you filthy little rat!" Angel screeched, and another pillar across the room burst apart. "Face your punishment!"

_In your dreams_. Lucy eyed the door at the other end of the room. If she could just get to it, she'd be able to slip out and lose Angel in the castle. The woman might have been living there, but Lucy was the one who had to learn the halls quickest from place to place. She could easily get away, if she could just reach that door.

The familiar woosh sounded, and Lucy rolled away just in time for her pillar to be destroyed. Debris hit her across the head, but she continued to run for it. The door was right there. She could practically taste freedom when she extended a hand and—

The floor disappeared from under her. Lucy had the sense to realize she was being raised just before she came face-to-face with the angel. She gasped, staring into its pale visage. Despite her situation, Lucy couldn't help but think it was the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen. Angel had called it Barakiel. Pale, with golden eyes and matching hair. It had three heads and a pair of soft, white wings extending from it's back, fluttering in the air. It didn't have any particular expression, and Lucy couldn't tell it's gender, if angels even _had_ genders. It gazed at Lucy with those strange eyes, and she couldn't help but feel there was something sad about them.

The angel had her clasped in one of its large hands, squeezing just enough that Lucy found it difficult to breathe. Angel cackled, commanding the angel to bring the rat to her. Lucy squirmed, attempting to push some of her magic out. She felt it lift its head sleepily at her call, and she urged it to wake up.

Barakiel set her down in front of Angel, releasing her with a small shove. Her old master smiled smugly. She was wearing a feathered dress of some sort, a blue rose in her hair. The image was ruined by her menacing aura and the whip she held tightly between her hands.

"Silly little slave girl," Angel sighed, shaking her head with a click of her tongue. Lucy pulled harder on her magic as the woman stalked closer. "Did you really think you could get away with this?"

"Of course," Lucy shot back, sick of the degrading manor she was speaking to her in. Or that she believed that whip held any power over the young woman. Lucy would sooner slit her own throat than let Angel touch her with that. "We already have."

"That's what you think," Angel giggled, covering her mouth daintily. It didn't hide the evil look in her dark eyes. "_You're wrong_."

Lucy didn't see Angel signal for Barakiel to attack, but a second later she was smacked with what could only be described as holy fire. Lucy screamed, the blazing inferno sending her toppling over. Pain rippled through her body, and breathing was impossible. The flames were gone a second later, but the pain had her shaking on the floor.

Angel cackled at her misery, stepping closer, her heels clicking on the floor. "You can't possibly win when we have heaven on _our_ side."

Lucy looked up, glaring at Angel. The angel in the sky stared down impassively, and Lucy got another sensation of sorrow. Her eyes caught on the three gold coins, still floating in the air where Angel had thrown them. A plan began to take form.

"Honestly, what did you think you were playing?" Angel inquired, hand on her hip. She shook her head, like a mother scolding a misbehaving child. "We had always suspected Jellal was against us. He was just a little too different when he came back, you know. Perhaps now that he's a confirmed traitor, Zeref will let me hunt him down. I'd _love_ to get tangled up with that."

Lucy pushed herself back, silently gathering up her scattered magic. _C'mon I just need enough to do one thing._ Angel pursued closer, swallowing the distance with her dangerous looking heels.

"And I always knew there was something up with you. You might have the scars, but you're no slave." She bent forward, eye-to-eye, and chucked Lucy harshly under the chin. "There's just no fear in those eyes of yours. Such disrespect. It's foolish really."

"You're wrong," Lucy grunted, her magic rising.

Angel backed up, raising a delicate eyebrow. She smiled pleasantly, tilting her head. "And what could I be wrong about?"

"Angels," she laughed, noting her opponents confused expression. She smirked proudly, a light feeling spreading through her fingers. "Heaven doesn't choose sides."

Angel's eyes widened and she reached forward, nails gleaming, but she never got the chance. Lucy released her magic, eyes locked onto a spot a few feet away. She felt her magic sizzle in her veins, and then she was gone.

One moment she was sitting in front of Angel, the next she was standing behind her. Lucy gasped, feeling her energy dip at the strain, but she didn't allow it to darken her triumph. Angel turned, but too late. Lucy had already snatched the coins from the air.

"Barakiel I release you," she intoned, staring up at the angel. "Return to the heavens from whence you came."

"No!" Angel screeched, but she was blown back by a bright pulse of light. Lucy closed her eyes as she felt the angel's spirit return to the coins. For a moment she swore that she felt something gentle reach out and brush her subconscious, but it was too quick for Lucy to tell. When she blinked, Barakiel was gone, and a single gold coin sat in her hand, still warm.

Lucy smiled down at it, this time not imagining the gratitude from the small coin. She closed her fist around it, responding silently, and slipped the coin into her blouse pocket.

"_You bitch!_" Lucy turned in time to catch Angel, who had charged at her. She grunted at the impact, falling to the floor with the woman's full weight atop her. "Dirty little rat! I'll kill you!"

Lucy twisted away from the flying nails, her legs hooking around Angel and tossing her sideways. She hit the ground but was on the attack again quick enough. Lucy dodged, fingers reaching. Angel hurled herself forward with a strangled snarl, and Lucy's hand wrapped around something. A second later, Lucy was slamming a stone into her skull.

Blood poured down her face, but Angel continued to attack. Hands closed around her throat, nails biting into skin. She was straddling her, squeezing the life out of her neck. Lucy gagged and did it again, and again.

Finally, Angel's nails loosened on the fourth hit, blood pouring from a large gash on her head. She swayed and then tumbled off Lucy, hitting the floor with a resounding smack. Lucy laid beside her, breathing hard, the bloody rock still clutched in her grip.

When her breath recovered, she pushed herself up. She glanced down at the psychopath beside her. What a freaking crazy woman. Lucy jumped when she stirred, instinctively smashing the rock into her head again. After that Angel went still.

Lucy released a long breath. Her fingers touched her neck gently. The skin was tender, probably already bruising, but it would be okay. She sighed. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep, but a small pulse from her pocket reminded her that she had to keep going. Slowly she climbed to her feet. She dropped the rock beside the fallen woman, wiping her hands absently on her skirt. Taking a deep breath, she started walking toward the door at the end of the hall.

* * *

Natsu and Nigrum Ferro were lost.

"I told ya ta take a right back there!"

"I _did_ take a right, ya freaking pin cushion!"

"Whaddya call me?! Salamander!"

They had backtracked and retraced their steps fourteen different times. They'd entered three different ballrooms, two music rooms, and even a dungeonesque room that was on the fifth floor. They'd taken one look at the certain, ah, _tools_ lining the walls and carefully backed out of that one, turning around without saying a word.

After defeating Midnight and Cobra, Nigrum Ferro had decided it'd be a good idea to try and find the girl before she found Zeref. They had tried to trace her scent, but there was so much dust and blood in the air that it was impossible to track her. Instead they'd followed her path of destruction.

They had discovered a white-haired girl in a large hall, pillars half destroyed and debris all around her. The girl herself laid on the ground, completely out cold, a bloody stone at her side.

"Definitely Bunny Girl," Nigrum Ferro had concluded, staring down at the woman with distaste. Natsu didn't know her name, but he recognized her as one of the oracion seis. The same team that Cobra and Midnight had been on.

He'd given his comrade a strange look, wondering how he'd known that this was the girl's work. Did she regularly beat people bloody with rocks? Instead he asked, "Do you give everyone animal nicknames?"

That seemed to throw the guy for a loop. He blinked at a pillar and then shrugged. "Nope."

In addition to the decimated hall, there had been two other rooms with doors blown apart that Nigrum Ferro had insisted were the work of Bunny Girl. Natsu had followed, scenting the thin trace of her magic. He wondered where she was headed. He'd only seen the inside of the castle a few, very spare times yet he knew Zeref's rooms were at the top. She was headed down.

"She's gotta be drained after that show she put on," Natsu muttered. He hoped she was, at least. If not, then she was a freaking monster. He didn't know many people who could raise the dead and then go kick some evil ass. Well, he didn't know anyone, actually. She'd be the first.

Nigrum Ferro hummed his agreement. Natsu noticed that he'd been carefully avoiding the subject of his resurrection. If he'd been brought back to life, Natsu would've been shouting to the rooftops his joy. His partner just seemed oddly resigned.

Natsu didn't push. Everyone had their way of coping with things. Dying was nothing to celebrate, and Natsu was the last person who deserved to question him. Still, he found himself asking, "Did you know she could do that?"

For a little while, he didn't think his partner would answer. They walked down two halls in silence before the man grunted, shaking his head. His long mane shook with the movement. Natsu didn't know how one could have so much hair, though he supposed his own locks were longer than he preferred them. The ends tickled his shoulders annoyingly.

"Bunny Girl has always been special," he finally relented, starting down a set of stairs that held her faint scent. "You've felt her magic. It's..._different_ than normal magic. Stronger, I guess. There's a lot she could do if she explored it, but she doesn't. For good reason," he added, noting Natsu's look. The pinkette bit back his question a little embarrassedly. Nigrum Ferro chuckled, but the smile didn't reach his face. "But no, I didn't know she could do _that_. I doubt she did, either."

"I didn't realize it was bad to explore your magic," Natsu mused, more to himself. He didn't expect his partner to answer.

"Some things are better off unknown," the red-eyed man said darkly. A shadow seemed to cross his face. "Not everything has a good past."

Natsu left it at that, and Nigrum Ferro didn't say anything more. Something about his words set his nerves on edge. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what kind of dark things this man had seen. Though Natsu had seen his fair share.

It didn't matter as a minute later they heard sounds of fighting. They looked at each other, then rushed off. Natsu and Nigrum Ferro rounded a corner, and came face-to-face with one of the scariest sights they'd seen.

"Mard Geer," Natsu hissed, his hackles raising at the sight of the pretentious mage. Zeref's right hand man, his dirty little dog. What was he doing so far from his master?

Fighting, it seemed like. He was going against a blue-haired man, and Natsu reveled in the fact that his ever-present smirk was gone. In its place was an annoyed snarl, directed at the tall man who blocked him shot for shot.

Natsu would have been more into the battle if it weren't for the prone figure lying on the other side of the room. "Shit," he hissed, running toward her. Nigrum Ferro wasn't far behind, uttering his own slew of curses.

She was leaning against the wall, head tilted to the side. A few cuts ran up her legs, which Natsu realized were rather revealed by her ripped skirt. There was a bloodstain on her stomach, though it didn't appear to be hers. What most concerned him was the long gash across her forehead. Her eyes were closed, but her chest was moving up and down regularly. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was—

"Sleeping," Nigrum Ferro huffed in amusement, bending down and lightly pressing his hand against the crown of her head, wary of her wound. She groaned, pulled from her sleep. Her nose wrinkled cutely and her eyes blinked open, looking up at them blearily. "Gajeel?" She looked at Nigrum Ferro.

There was nothing remotely funny going on around them, but Natsu felt a laugh bubble out of him. Maybe it was the stress, or just the utter turmoil his emotions had been through, but he began laughing hysterically. They both looked at him with a mix of shock and confusion.

Nigrum Ferro—no, _Gajeel_—looked especially annoyed. "What's so funny, Hothead?"

"Your name," Natsu huffed, trying to settle himself. He failed. "It's Gajeel?"

The man glared at him. "Yeah? What's so funny about that, punk?"

"N-nothing," Natsu snorted. He had to ease himself down again, settling for a humorous smile. "It fits you, is all."

Gajeel didn't look like he knew how to respond to that, but the girl saved him. "This is Natsu."

"_Natsu_? Like summer?" Gajeel laughed at that, and the pinkette frowned at the girl, feeling a little betrayed.

"Okay missy, and what's your name?"

She grinned up at him, a bit of mischief sparking in her gaze. Natsu felt his magic rear its head at that silent challenge, but she only turned toward the battle at hand. "I think we have more important things to worry about here."

She was right. While they were laughing about names, the man was still battling Mard Geer. He was doing well, Natsu realized, but he knew that he was exhausted. He dodged one of Mard Geer's vine attacks, but a bursing rose caught him off guard. The man grunted at the impact, but pushed it away with a blast of light magic. It looked a lot like mystery girl's, though it lacked the strength hers had.

"I'm drained," she told them, pushing herself up slowly. Gajeel growled at her to sit back down, but she waved him off with a flick of her wrist. Natsu watched as she pushed herself off the wall, legs shaking a little. She eyed the fight with a distant look. "I would have been a goner if Jellal hadn't stepped in."

"Who is he?" Gajeel asked. They watched him dodge another attack, managing to land a blast of bright magic in Mard Geer's leg. The man shouted out hoarsely, gritting his teeth and sending a dozen more roses.

"Jellal," the girl filled in, leaning heavily on her right side. Her hand slid up to cup a slash on her left arm. "He's our inside man."

Gajeel made an impressed sound. "We'll give him a little hand."

"No you won't."

The trio froze, turning to the new voice. Even the two fighting paused, seeing who the newcomer was. A man stepped into the room, clad in golden armor. A large golden helmet hid his face from view, a fur-lined robe across his shoulders. Mard Geer chuckled darkly, a slightly relieved look crossing his face. "Alexai."

"Mard," the man returned stiffly. Carefully he reached out and lifted his helmet off his head. Under the golden mask was a middle-aged man, tanned with a dark beard and hair. Glittering black eyes stared out with distaste.

Natsu felt the girl stiffen at his side. He turned toward her curiously, but she was watching the man with wide eyes. A tremor ran through her body, and Natsu would have thought she was scared if not for the scathing hatred that filled her eyes. He was shocked by the raw emotion on her.

Gajeel sensed it too, though from his expression, he didn't understand it. Instead he set a hand on her shoulder, snapping her out of her shock. She looked at him, desperation lining her body. There was a pained kind of look to her. Gajeel smiled as reassuringly as he could, patting her head roughly. "We got this Bunny Girl. You rest up, okay? Jellal, finish that wimp off."

The blue-haired man muttered an affirmative, already back to his dangerous game, now with more energy. Their new opponent smirked, looking amused at the idea of two boys taking him on. The girl looked between them, but nodded reluctantly. Natsu grinned along, carefully giving her head a gentle rub. She looked shocked by the contact, but he turned away before she could scold him.

He joined Gajeel and smiled innocently at their new opponent. He let his fangs flash cruelly. Whoever made a girl like her shake, definitely deserved to be punished.


	5. Chapter 5

Jellal flung himself away from the black cloud that Mard Geer had summoned. He hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of him, but he managed to spin and launch an attack back at the black sphere. It bounced harmlessly off the surface, ricocheting away to slam into a far wall. He coughed, feeling the exhaustion beginning to weigh on him. He forced himself to his feet, glaring at the smirking enemy.

"Give it up, Lord Jellal. You know you cannot defeat me." He did know, very accurately. Mard Geer was Zeref's right hand man. Hand chosen for his in depth cruelty and dark magic. Perhaps he had gotten the drop on him, but when it came to magic potential, Jellal did not know if he could beat the man.

But the alternative had been inconceivable. He'd stumbled across the man by pure chance, only to find him with a half-conscious Lucy in his thorny grip. Jellal had engaged without a second thought.

Lucy wasn't just his ally. She was something different, something special. He'd begun to question it when he felt her magic. Jellal had recognized her in that simple touch, as she had him. He had begun to guess after that, and her interaction with Ignis Draco confirmed it. Now that he knew what he did, there was no way he would allow her to be hurt. She _had_ to live.

He spared a glance to the other side of the room. Lucy was leaning against the wall, clutching a wound on her arm. Her eyes were fluttering with pain, but her magic was depleted. At least, her conscious magic was.

The two young men were engaged in a battle with the new enemy. Of course Jellal had recognized him as soon as he'd taken off that gaudy helmet. Ivan Dreyar, traitor and kinslayer. It was unsurprising to know that he now worked with the Dark King he so eagerly assisted all those years ago. Jellal only wished he'd known of his existence sooner, so he could have killed him.

Gajeel and Natsu were spinning around to avoid the paper dolls Ivan sent toward them, careful to avoid contact. Jellal was impressed with the grace in which they moved. They were a two-man team, working with such a synchronization he would've thought they'd been fighting together for years.

Natsu released a breath of fire towards Ivan's dolls, decimating them. He shifted to cover Gajeel, who had backed up with an unclear look in his eyes, chest heaving. Stuck in one of Ivan's illusions no doubt.

Jellal was forced back to his own fight as Mard sent a deadly bouquet toward his unprotected left. He blocked with a light shield, but some of it still managed to catch his side. The dark magic stung, and he grunted, holding his side. His hand came away black with blood.

Mard Geer chuckled at his grimace. "I can somewhat understand why our King likes to play with humans. You don't think that death awaits you. Your ideals and actions are mostly led by feelings. And you don't even realize your own weaknesses." He shook his head pitifully. "You're absolutely ignorant. So foolish that you're almost lovely."

Distantly, he heard Lucy yell his name. He glared up at his opponent, but Mard Geer wasn't looking at him anymore. He was gazing into the distance, his brow furrowed. His lips pulled down in a frown and he shook his head, blinking. His dark eyes found Jellal and he sighed with a sad note. "I'm afraid our Great Lord wishes for my return. We'll have to wrap this up."

Mard flicked his hand toward the dark sphere, which had been steadily growing larger at his side. The silvery casing around it shimmered, and then broke. The sphere rushed towards him, faster than he could move. Jellal screamed at the impact, his limbs locking in place. The black magic surrounded him, paralyzing his body in the pure evilness of it. His magic guttered and went out completely, leaving him lost to the darkness.

"Typically I wouldn't waste such a curse on a lowly mortal like you, but you have angered our King. King Zeref does not appreciate traitors, Lord Jellal. And for that, you must cease to exist." Mard smiled down at the prone man, waving once. "_Memento Mo—"_

He was cut off by a blast of golden light slamming into his chest. Mard Geer was flung backwards, slamming into the wall hard enough that the room seemed to shake. Jellal gasped, the magic that had paralyzed him reeling back toward its owner. He shivered, rising from the floor, and turned to see Lucy standing a few feet behind him.

Her chest was heaving, a line of blood leaking from one of her ears. Her body shook with exertion, and Jellal feared she'd collapse right there. Lucy's right arm was extended, fingers still glowing from the beam of light she'd shot at Mard Geer.

"Don't forget that you can die, too," she growled at Mard's body. The demon was slowly pulling himself from the wall, pieces crumbling around him. He glared up at her, a dark aura arising around him. Hatred glittered in his eyes as he bared his teeth. Lucy shuttered, but she gave him an equally scathful glare.

She was drained. Jellal wasn't even sure how she'd managed to conjure up that much power. He felt a spike of fear as a violent shiver almost toppled her over. If she didn't stop now, she would burn herself out. That was not something he could save her from.

He opened his mouth to stop her, but another voice split through the room. "_You_."

They all turned toward the second battle. Ivan held Gajeel by the throat, holding him a few feet in the air. The man's face was turning blue, but he was still growling and throwing hits at his opponent. Natsu was a few feet behind him, having been tossed to the ground. He was sitting up with a growl, face bloody and eyes narrowed in anger.

Ivan wasn't looking at either of them, even as Gajeel landed an iron-clad hit to his gut. The man dropped him like he was nothing, the dragon slayer grunting when he was flung against the wall. Ivan's eyes were locked on them—no, on Lucy.

"It is you," he said, eyes going wide. He took a step forward and froze. For a moment his face was blank, then a seething animosity. "_How are you alive_!" He screamed.

Lucy flinched back, stumbling over a piece of debris. Ivan yelled and pulled his arm back. Before Jellal could even blink, another beam of light was flying across the room with deadly intent, straight for Lucy.

* * *

Lucy could see it all flashing in front of her. The battles were happening, but distantly, as if she were once again in the spectator box, watching. In front of her was Natsu and Gajeel, to her right Jellal. But Lucy's eyes were focused on a third battle, the memory of one playing to her left.

She saw Ivan again, younger but no less hateful. He didn't have the grand armor, but he had noble clothes. Clothes she watched get soaked in splatters of blood.

Lucy watched from beneath a table, view partly blocked by a hanging curtain. She was small, dressed in a fine pink dress, her hair curled. Her mother had dressed her in it that morning in preperation of their guests. Her mother had shoved her under the table and told her not to move.

She'd listened to the sound of the guards announce her uncle. Ivan walked in, prim and proper, his head held high and a cruel light to his eyes. Lucy listened as his and her father's voices began to raise, louder and louder until they were yelling. Then she felt something roll through her, like a blanket of light. A horrible silence filled that void, and then there was screaming.

It might have been her mother, or maybe one of her mother's maids. Curses were thrown at Ivan. Lucy still remembered her mother's final words. "_You were my brother!_" Another wave of energy, and that voice was silenced, too.

Lucy hadn't dared to move. She didn't make a peep, but she could hear her heart beating in her chest. So, so loudly. She tried to make it quiet, but it only got louder.

That was why he'd found her. The table cloth was thrust aside, and Lucy had screamed when a large, bloody hand grabbed her. He yanked her out harshly, dragging her across the ground. Lucy cried out, eyes falling on a sight that was burned into her memory.

All sorts of creatures were littered around the room, dark and humanoid, but with pitless eyes that screamed of empty souls. Some were feasting on the remains of the guards that had stood by the doors, others had someone else's blood dripping down their chins or long claws.

Ivan squeezed her slim arm with enough force to snap the bone. Lucy cried when she felt it crack, a pain unlike any other she'd ever experienced filling her. He flung her away, and she flopped onto the ground and into something wet.

Blood, she'd realized with startled horror. She looked up, and her cries died on her lips. Her father was lying in front of her, eyes open and unseeing. A hole went clear through his finely clothed chest, allowing Lucy to see _through_ him to the prone body of her mother, toppled out of her chair. Her heart stopped beating, and Lucy could only stare as she felt their souls slip away.

Her uncle grabbed her again, lifting her by her throat. Lucy gasped at the air that was cut off from her lungs. She hadn't even realized she'd still been breathing.

He lifted her up to eye-level, her little legs kicking feebly in the air. She looked into his face, the face of someone she had trusted and even loved. The face of her family, the face her _mother_ shared with him. But there was none of her mother's kindness in his lips when he smiled at her. All she saw was greed and darkness.

There were no parting words as her uncle killed her. He simply raised his hand and blasted her with her own magic. Lucy felt it rip her apart, as it had done to her parents, and then it was black.

She came back to reality when she'd sensed mortal danger. That same little part that had felt her parents' souls leaving, had felt Gajeel's, flared up in warning. Her eyes darted to Jellal, taking in his restricted state. He was half sunk in a pool of darkness, Mard Geer standing over him, blubbering about the woes of mortality. She saw him raise his hand, his magic rising in a black wave as he prepared to release his spell.

Lucy knew it would kill Jellal. She didn't know how, but she knew, and that was unacceptable. She acted without truly thinking, reaching down inside of her and ripping her magic back up. Her hand arced out, and she felt something inside her pull sharply when her magic released. Her vision spun, head pounding, and she thought she might die, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that beam of light slamming into Mard Geer and sending him into the wall. His magic dissipated, incomplete, and that sense of danger flooded away with relief.

Her body burned, her consciousness slipping in and out. Somehow she remained standing, but when her uncle called out to her, recognition and hatred in his voice, she knew she was going to die.

Lucy tried to back away, but she tripped and fell. Her body hit the ground heavily, her very soul weighed by the exhaustion that threatened to break her. She watched as Ivan released that beam of light, so pure compared to his darkened soul. Lucy simply stared as it spun toward her, as it had all those years ago. Now, finally to claim her life.

But suddenly there was someone in front of her. Lucy opened her mouth to shout, to stop him, but the light collided with him. It hit his side, exploding and all but ripping through him. There was a ringing silence as all took in the scene that had occured. Lucy looked up at her protector, expression horror-stricken.

Natsu stood before her, half his side gone, and glared up at the man who had tried to kill her.

* * *

He didn't know why he did it. Sure, he'd owed her for healing his side earlier, especially when he realized the risk she'd imposed on herself to do it. But that wasn't the reason he jumped in front of her.

He'd _wanted_ to protect her. Something in him had shuttered at the thought of anyone hurting her anymore. And when he'd heard the killing intention in Alexei's voice, he'd acted before he could think about it.

Pain rushed up Natsu's side, enough that he thought he might pass out. Never had he experienced this kind of excruciating agony. Every one of his nerves was aflame, burning him from the inside. Yet, he didn't regret doing it. He could feel her behind him, safe and alive. He couldn't bring himself to regret it.

"_Natsu_." Her voice was soft, filled with astonishment and fear. He didn't like the tremble in her tone, as if she were about to cry.

"You insignificant _bug_," Alexei seethed, eyes alight with fury. Gajeel was stumbling from behind him, eyes widening when they took in what had occured. Natsu felt his chest heave, lungs working desperately to keep him breathing. Every breath felt like he was breathing fire. He chuckled, the sound raspy and wet with blood. Breathing fire, like a dragon. If only Igneel could see him now.

He had a feeling his father would be proud. Finally, Natsu had found his calling. He had discovered what he was meant for. He wanted to protect the innocent, not hurt them. He wanted to save lives, not take them. And now he had. He probably wouldn't get the chance to do so again, he realized, but it was worth it. It was worth dying to ensure that the little beam of light behind him continued to live on and glow. _She_ was the kind of person who saved people. She did not deserve to die.

Alexei had his arm raised, ready to launch another attack. Natsu prepared for it. He'd take them, one after another. The man glared, as if seeing that truth in his eyes, and the light burned at his fingertips.

A hand stopped him. Alexei froze, spinning around, but paused when he saw who had grabbed him. Natsu froze as well, a bit of fear breaking through his shell. He tried to push it back, but the black eyes that locked onto him made him feel very small and insignificant. Only the feel of the girl behind him kept him standing.

Zeref stood there, one hand loosely holding Alexei's. The grip looked light, but the taller man flinched under it. "King Zeref," Alexei murmured, glancing between his king and the boy still standing opposite of him. "I was just taking care of some trash."

"Trash," the man mused, his voice calm and oddly musical. His eyes flashed in his pale face. "The only trash I see here is you, Ivan."

The other man flinched under the insult, some of his earlier anger rising back up. "May I have your permission to finish what i started, my King?"

Zeref smiled at that, the look bland on his face. He was younger than Natsu had thought the terrifying overlord would be. Maybe a few years older than himself, not much taller. A floppy head of black hair rested over his forehead, and he was dressed in all black. He didn't look terrifying at all.

"You may not," Zeref spoke softly, but with resolution. "We have other things to attend to. Mard Geer!"

The other demon rushed over, abandoning Jellal. He approached his king with a demure bow, his whole body sunk low in respect. Ivan looked between the two with a desperate look. "My King—"

"Leave your petty transgressions for another time, Ivan." There was a sharp look in the younger man's gaze, and Natsu saw a brief flicker of what was so terrifying about him. Ivan flinched back, and bowed his head, though not nearly as low as Mard Geer. "Of course, my King."

Zeref gave him a dismissive look and turned his eyes up to face them. Natsu froze when that dark gaze locked onto him. His eyes were black, and empty. He shivered, feeling some of that emptiness creep into him.

The Dark King's head tilted and a little smirk tilted his lips. Amusement flashed in his face briefly, and he reached out to grab his two commanders. "Until next time, Natsu."

In a flash of dark light they were gone. Natsu stared at the space they had stood, his mind working slowly. He looked up at Gajeel to say something, but his eyes rolled back and he fell forward into darkness.

* * *

**Hi everyone! Sorry this is a bit of a shorter chapter, but I needed a solid stopping point for my next chapter. It's a good one, if I do say so myself. **

**I've never done an author's note before. It's actually been a really long time since I've written on this site. I'm really glad that people seem to be enjoying the story so much! I can't give too much away, but in response to someone's question, yes Gajeel and Natsu's fighter names are in latin. Ignis Draco is fire dragon, and Nigrum Ferro is black steel. If you noticed about two chapters ago during the fight, Natsu only referred to himself as Ignis Draco. It was a cool concept I had heard about going into an alternate persona, especially in traumatic or stressful situations. It'll be expanded on in later chapters, do not fear!**

**I hope I haven't made Lucy too overpowered. Her spirits are going to be actual characters in this book. I can't give everything about her away, but she won't be going around bringing people back from certain death on the regular. Spirit summoning just doesn't completely fit into my plot, and I have big plans for little Lucy. **

**The M rating is mostly for explicit or gruesome scenes. I'm a fan of the lemons, but I don't know if this story will have the space for one. I'll certainly put a warning ahead of time if I decide to throw one in. For now, it's just a marker for some of my bloodier or abusive parts. **

**Anyway please leave comments, I love hearing the feedback and suggestions from you guys. I hope you enjoy! **


	6. Chapter 6

Natsu blearily opened his eyes to the sound of clucking.

He groaned involuntarily, thrust back into the world of consciousness. He was lying on his back on the hard ground, a band of sunlight crossing over his chest and making him blink. A dull roar of pain came from his left side, and he quickly rolled onto his right to try to alleviate it. He froze when his arm landed in something soft and mushy.

Looking down, he released a disgusted noise from the back of his throat when he saw the rather large pile of feces he had rolled into. Sighing through his nose, he wiped his arm carefully on the hay and shuffled to push himself up. It took a little bit of effort, and he was rewarded with a sharp sting of pain, but he was able to sit up and lean his back against the wooden wall behind him.

He was in a stall of some kind. There were two more walls on either side of him, and half of one in front. A gate, he realized, noting the metal hatch on the side. There was a bucket in the corner, too far for him to try and reach, and little shelves on the wall held brushes and other supplies. A soft nickering from the wall to his right assured him that he had living company only a few feet away.

Someone had seen to him, though. His breastplate and helmet were gone. Instead he wore a shirt of bandages, which he noticed were done tight and carefully. If only there weren't a small red dot on his side, steadily growing. He sighed, knowing he'd torn his stitches.

He was wearing a pair of brown loose pants. His fingers had instinctively slid to his waist for the familiar texture of his scarf, only to find skin. Natsu tried not to let it bring him down, assuring himself that whoever had taken care of him had it. It didn't stop the ache in the pit of his stomach, one that had nothing to do with pain.

Natsu distracted himself by playing with his magic. It leaped at his touch, fingers coming alight in front of his face. He was careful not to accidentally catch the hay on fire. He knew he was fireproof, but the rest of the barn was not.

It was good to have his flames again. Natsu hadn't realized how much he'd missed the warmth that came from his fire. He was always warmer than the average person, but this was a different sensation. It was electrifying and comforting all in one. He could feel his power under his skin, thrumming and settling back into his body.

He wondered how he'd gotten here. By all means, he knew he should be dead. He'd taken a hit head-on, had blown up half his side. He still didn't regret it, knowing that the girl would be safe. Wherever she was.

Time passed slowly, leaving Natsu to his wonderings. He began to get antsy, and tried to shift around his stall a little more. That wasn't a good idea, and he nearly fell over when he attempted to kneel, his vision blackening. The red dot on his bandages was about the size of his fist now, and near black in color. He flopped back against the wall with a grunt of pain, the world tipping on its axis.

He caught a whiff of a foreign scent among the musty hay and droppings. Natsu stiffened, his heart beat increasing when the smell got closer. It had a pungent metallic scent that made his nose wrinkle. Despite his injury, Natsu braced a hand against the wall, shifting onto the balls of his feet. His side screamed in pain, but he held his breath as footsteps began crunching toward him.

Chest tightening to the point he thought his heart might stop, Natsu prepared himself as a large figure came into view. He tensed, prepared to jump toward the threat, and stopped. As fast as his defenses had risen, they fell, and he almost passed out when his pain caught up to him.

"Yer up," a familiar man crooned, grunting that weird laughter of his. Gajeel's face was familar, yet not as he looked down on the pinkette. Gone was his glorious dark mane, and in its place was spikey tufts of black hair. His piercings glittered in the sunlight, but the look on his face was relaxed, even a little humorous. His red eyes glinted, and it struck Natsu that he looked _happy_. "We thought ya mighta died or something."

Natsu chuckled harshly, resisting the urge to flinch when his wounds sent shocking jolts through him. He relaxed against the wall, unbinding his tightening limbs. "Well, maybe you shouldn't stick me in the manure. Can't be good for healing purposes."

Gajeel's eyes sparkled evilly. "Now who said we were healing you?"

Despite his daunting tone, Natsu knew he was joking. He opened his mouth, prepared to tell him off, when a sharp squeak of "_Gajeel!_" beat him to it. He blinked, belatedly realizing there was someone else in the room. He sniffed, and sure enough there was a subtle smell hidden under Gajeel's stench. It smelled soft, like peaches.

Gajeel laughed again, and unlatched the door. It swung out, revealing the rest of Gajeel to him. The man was in normal clothes as opposed to armor, his arms folded and clad in a pair of work boots. The sleeves of the black shirt had been cut off to expose strong, tan arms, as well as two more rows of piercings along the outside of his limbs.

Natsu was more interested by the person who stepped around the opened door, almost shyly. It was a girl, so short she barely reached Gajeel's elbow. She had a head of blue curls, held back by an orange headband. She was pale and slim, big amber eyes peering at him curiously. She wore a simple pair of jeans and a white shirt, both torn enough that he could tell she wore them regularly.

She glared at Gajeel, who only smirked down at her in turn, and spun to face Natsu with a huff. He would have laughed if he didn't see spots dancing across his eyelids. She must have noticed his pale expression, because she quickly assured him, "We _are_ trying to heal you. Gajeel is just an ass."

Her voice was high, but calming. Natsu couldn't help but laugh at that, especially when Gajeel made an offended noise in the back of his throat. Natsu's side clenched and burned at the movement, and his laughter quickly turned into a hiss of pain.

"Your side!" The girl rushed toward him without hesitating. She touched his arm gently, kneeling closer to him. "Oh gosh, it's bleeding. And Porly just left. We'll have to see if Lu can fix it." She flitted her hands over him nervously. Her head snapped to the man behind her, so fast that he backed up with wide eyes. "Why didn't you tell me he was bleeding again!"

Natsu barely listened to Gajeel's quick excuses. He forced his body to uncurl, pushing against the ground. The world spun, but he kept moving, slowly easing himself along the wall until he was standing. The wood scraped at his skin, but he didn't let it bother him as he rose to a standing position.

In a second hands were on him again, and he looked down to watch the blue pixie trying to help him stand. Her limbs were small and ineffective, but he supposed as rougher, bigger hands grabbed him, that hadn't been her purpose. Indeed, she stepped back with a satisfied smile when Gajeel was forced to do the heavy lifting for her. The red-eyed man glared but didn't step back.

"We need to get you in the house," she told him, smiling kindly. "You tore your stitches. Our healer left already, but Lu can fix you up."

"She won't be happy," Gajeel warned, but the girl ignored his warning in favor of smiling. Natsu desperately wanted to ask them the questions flitting through his head, but he held his tongue. Pain was making his mind dull, and wasting time thinking about stuff only made his head throb.

Natsu was shocked back into reality when he felt hands go for his legs. He twisted away, nearly falling over in the process. He stumbled against the other wall, side aflame, and glared at Gajeel. His offender returned the look, the little girl staring between them with amusement.

"I'm gonna have to carry you," Gajeel insisted, sounding about as happy as Natsu felt.

"I'd rather poke my eyes out."

They exchanged sharp glares, and the woman sighed. "Oh come on. It's ten feet. Gajeel won't drop you…" She looked up at him expectantly.

"Natsu," he supplied her, feeling his doubt stretch across his face. He glanced back at the stall door. "It's not dropping me I'm worried about."

"It's not like I didn't carry you before, Salamander," Gajeel growled.

Natsu wanted to retort, but the look the girl was giving him, with her big eyes and trembling lip...ugh! "Fine!" He growled, throwing his hands up. "But we don't talk about this again."

Gajeel muttered something under his breath, too quiet for the other dragonslayer to hear. Natsu frowned at him, focusing on the feel of his side when the bigger man came and picked him up. Hands went under his knees and another under his back. Before he knew it, Natsu was being carried in Gajeel's arms like some sort of damsel. He felt his cheeks flare up with embarrassment, but aside from a light giggle, there was no teasing.

The little blue-haired girl led the way out of the den. A barn, Natsu realized as they made their way through it. He caught sight of two horses in the stalls to his right. One was a dappled gray, the other pure black.

As soon as they stepped outside the barn, Natsu felt something like awe fill him. Bright sunlight streamed in his face, making the whole world bright. He had to blink at the brightness of it, his eyes squinting, but he could make out the sight of rolling fields in the distance. They were already cut, goods harvested and stored away. A few animals roamed in the distance, too far to make out. On the ground outside the barn were the sources of the clucking sound he'd heard before. Chickens. One cocked its head at Natsu, eyes following as they passed.

Gajeel carried Natsu towards a small house at the side of the property. It was quaint looking, small but not cramped. It was painted a baby blue, bits of the paint chipping off due to time and weather. The windows were open, curtains extended in the breeze. Natsu could picture a little family living there, working the fields to return for supper at their small home. He sobered when he realized that before Zeref's reign, one probably had.

The steps creaked under their weight. The little woman slid ahead, pushing the door open. It squeaked to announce their arrival, rust flying when she had to shove it to open all the way. Gajeel ducked inside, not being quite careful enough to save Natsu's head from hitting the doorway. He yelped at the pain. The woman hissed a warning, but Gajeel only chuckled and headed into the house.

It was degrading enough being carried across the yard like a baby, so Natsu shifted quickly to be set down. Gajeel dropped him without complaint, though his hands lingered to ensure he stayed upright. He eyed him shrewdly as he used the wall to situate himself.

They were in a small alclove, just barely big enough for the three of them. A set of stairs were visible at the right, leading into the unknown. The wall opened left to a small living room, currently empty. Down the hall was a brightly lit room, where he could just make out the sound of voices.

"You shouldn't be walking," the woman protested, but Gajeel silenced her with a look. His eyes watched Natsu, flashing with a silent challenge. The pinkette grit his teeth and pushed away from the wall, stumbling further into the home.

Every step sent waves of hot pain up his torso, but he didn't dare stop. A little wound like this wouldn't bring down Ignis Draco. He felt his magic rise in agreement, and the burn increased. Yet, walking became easier.

The murmur of conversation became actual words as he got closer. Gajeel and the blue-haired woman stood close at his back, ready to catch him if he needed it. He was thankful for it, but it wasn't necessary. He could feel his strength rise with every step, the fire in him growing brighter.

He turned the corner and found himself in a bright little world. The kitchen was small in a cozy sort of way, white tiles cold beneath his bare feet. The walls were a soft yellow, black cabinets along the edges. A tall island sat in the center of the room, three people surrounding it. On the far wall was a large window, a door he realized, and it allowed him to see a quaint little garden beginning to ripen.

If the kitchen was cheery, its' occupants were somber. Natsu's eyes went to the dark-haired man first, and the amount of skin he was showing off. He was tall, but it was hidden in his slouch as he leaned against the table. He wasn't wearing a shirt, though he had no wounds as far as Natsu could see. Black hair flopped messily into his dark, drooping eyes. His cheekbones were high, and Natsu thought he was very pretty for a boy.

As if he could hear the pinkette's thoughts, the man glared with a harsh frown. Natsu returned the sentiment, dislike rising in his chest.

"What's this?" Natsu's eyes jumped to the second person in the room. She was almost as tall as Natsu, her hair a bright, fiery red. Her gray eyes were narrowed, arms folded over her generous chest with an air of questioning. There was an aura of authority to her imposing figure. Natsu balked at her shining breastplate, which he noticed a little queasily, still had dried blood on it. He felt his magic quiver when those eyes assessed him.

He was rescued from untold horrors when the small blue-haired woman stepped forward. He silently praised his savior. She gave him an amused look, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, and turned back to the redhead. "Do you know where Lu? He tore his stitches."

Natsu resisted the urge to protest when the woman pointed over her shoulder at him. So much for his savior. He was stopped from doing anything when he felt that pointed glare on him again, more fierce than before. Seriously, it was like having a knife to your throat. One wrong move and you were dead.

The red-haired woman ran her eyes over him critically, stopping at his chest. The red had already taken over the white, and looking at it made Natsu feel distinctly lightheaded. He shifted awkwardly, trying to keep the room from swaying too much. The dark-haired man's snort of mockery on furthered his resolve. He frowned and forced himself to stand straighter, sending daggers towards the still-laughing man.

Apparently satisfied with her eye-rape, the redhead coughed and her glare lessened. Her face smoothed into something warmer, and an image flashed through his brain, so fast he blinked and it was gone. He shook his head, blinking a little. Man he was really losing it.

"Lucy is upstairs resting, but I'm sure she wouldn't mind coming down to help. Tell me," she directed her words at him. There was such a fierceness to her that Natsu was sure he'd tell her his darkest secret if she asked, if only to avoid the wrath sure to come if he refused. "How is it you came to be a gladiator?"

He blinked, not really expecting that to be her first question. It wasn't a particularly dark or interesting story, though he supposed it could be if she grilled him for certain details. Natsu just shrugged, rolling with it.

"I was a slave in Crocus," he told them honestly, subtly noting the cringe from the blue-haired woman at his side. The others didn't move, in fact it seemed they had all gone impossibly still. An air of darkness took over the room, and Natsu felt bad for dampening the bright atmosphere, but pushed on. "About six years ago my group was brought to Magnolia. They had us mining for a few weeks, and then some guy came in looking for strong, young blood. He took me and a few others, locked us up, and brought us to the capital. I was trained, and the rest is history." He didn't tell them about Igneel, or the weeks of darkness and blood and death. He didn't mention the nights he silently cried and curled into a ball when the nightmares were too real. Those were things too dark to be shared, but by the look on their faces, Natsu guessed they must have been somewhat aware of what he didn't say.

"You are fortunate," the scary woman murmured into the new silence. Natsu didn't know what about his situation was lucky, but he bit back the growl building in his throat. He reminded himself that he _was_ lucky. Being a gladiator was tough and soul demolishing, but it beat the conditions in Crocus. And the stories the new prisoners brought with them…

He lifted his shoulders in a weak shrug, not wanting to elaborate on it further. She nodded fairly, and lifted a hand toward him. Natsu froze, staring at the offered limb with confusion. Involuntarily his body curled back, unconsciously preparing for a hit. The woman's gaze grew sad, but she stayed still. There it was again, that _understanding_. Natsu wasn't sure if he hated it or not. "My name is Erza Scarlet."

A greeting, that's what she was offering him. And an exchange. Natsu didn't miss that.

Carefully, he reached out and took her hand. For such an imposing woman, she had a very small hand. It almost felt fragile in his large grip, pale and untouched. That lasted for about half a second, and then she strangled his limb. He nearly fell forward at the force of her grip, his hand crying out in pain.

After a painful shake, he pulled back, trying not to let the pain show on his face. Her expression hadn't changed from that soft look, and he wondered if she even realized her own strength. The dark-haired man was laughing again, Gajeel offering an amused look while the small blue-haired woman just looked confused. "Natsu Dragneel," he choked out.

A bright smile broke across her face, genuine and happy. Natsu was shocked by how much it transformed her. She almost looked like a normal girl. "Natsu," she tested out, and he felt something tight loosen in his chest. A goofy smile of his own worked his lips, despite the throbbing in his hand.

"Pleasantries can wait," the dark-haired man piped up. Natsu thought his voice was stupid sounding. As if aware of the irritable factor he possessed, he turned to Natsu and smirked. "Pinky here looks like he's about to fall over."

Natsu glared at him, ready to leap forward and show him who was gonna be falling, but Erza made a disapproving sound in her throat. That noise alone had both men freezing, and she took advantage of Natsu's confusion to grab his arm and drag him into the living room. He stumbled after her, cringing at the flare of pain, but her grip was unrelenting. She sat him down on the couch, ignoring the way he yelped when she pushed a little too hard. A gauntleted hand pressed him back into the cushions. His protests fell on deaf ears.

She pulled back only when he had laid across the length of the couch, grimacing and trying to ease the fire raging in his side. He loved fire, but this was a little ridiculous. Erza turned to the group who'd trickled in after them, mixed forms of amusement on their faces. "Levy," she summoned, the blue-haired girl practically jumping to attention. "Why don't you go get Lucy? I'm sure she'd like to get a look at Natsu before he bleeds to death."

"More like murder him for bleeding out on her couch," the blue-haired woman—Levy—mumbled and scampered away. Natsu listened to her light trod go up the stairs behind them.

It became unnaturally tense in the room, as if they had all been holding back their intensity in the presence of the small woman. Erza removed her hand from his shoulder, satisfied he wouldn't move, and stood beside the other men.

"Natsu, this is Gajeel Redfox, as I'm sure you know," she introduced, looking at the glowering red-eyed man. Gajeel grunted his agreement. "Like you," she continued, missing the startled look he shot her. Or just ignoring it, it was hard to tell. "He was a prisoner turned gladiator. We rescued him two years ago from a ring in Shirotsume. He uses metal dragon slayer magic."

"Oi woman," Gajeel growled, his discomfort evident. Natsu knew most of this already, but the large man was clearly uncomfortable by her throwing his information out to the wind. Erza moved on, stepping beside the dark-haired man. Natsu smirked when his previous amusement was nowhere to be found, only a nervous look in his eyes. "Erza," he warned.

She placed her hand on his shoulder and silenced his protests with a harsh squeeze. It looked innocent enough, but the man bent over in pain within a second. She smiled benevolently, as if she weren't casually overpowering a man bigger than her. Natsu took one look at that smile and silently promised himself he would do his best not to get on her bad side. "This is Gray Fullbuster. He was—"

"Erza."

They all froze, silent except for Gray, who was making sad choking noises, still in Erza's death grip. Natsu flinched at the authority in that one word, and turned toward the sound of the voice. He took in the figure standing at the bottom of the stairs and felt his world drop out from under him.

Levy stood there, shuffling awkwardly as all their attention was turned in her direction. They weren't looking at her though, rather the woman at her side. She was a good head above Levy, though still rather short. Her arms were thin but strong, crossed over her impressive chest, which was conveniently visible in her rather revealing tank top. A stern frown was twisting her pink lips down, brown eyes tired but firm and burning with a little fire. Blonde hair was pulled into a messy ball atop her head, the strands framing her pretty face. Despite her impressive display, she looked exhausted. There was a tiredness to her that had Natsu wondering if she'd just woken up.

He sucked in a harsh breath, taking in that stance and the stubborn lift of her small chin. It was difficult to tell with the blonde hair and clean face, but he would have recognized her anywhere.

"Bunny girl," he murmured without thinking. The intimidating aura broke easily as she snapped her head to him, a look of startlement and..._embarrassment_ twisting her fierce expression. A dusting of pink crossed her cheeks, and she puffed her cheeks out indignantly when Gajeel began full-on laughing. The guy was practically bent backwards, his ridiculous laughter ringing off the walls. Erza released Gray in her curious wonderment, glancing between the three of them. The blonde woman sighed, a defeated look bowing her forward.

"Actually, it's Lucy," she told him. She stepped into the room, sending Gajeel a hateful look. He was finally calming down, breathing heavily and chuckling here and there as he caught his breath. He gave her a cheeky grin.

Natsu looked at the big man in confusion, but turned his gaze back to the blonde slowly approaching. Whoa he hadn't really noticed when she was covered in grime and blood and glowing like the angel of vengeance, but she was very pretty. Like, crazy attractive. He felt himself heat up when she approached his side. God, what was he? Some pubescent punk, burning up at a pretty girl.

He was too caught up in this new sensation to notice that his hand had lit up. He didn't even realize it until someone gasped. Lucy blinked and looked down slowly. He followed her gaze, jumping when he saw bright flames wrapped around his clenched fist. Natsu swore, quickly quenching his flames. His hand tingled in the aftermath. He hadn't even realized he'd loosed his control.

"I'm sorry," he stammered, the embarrassment making him feel hotter. He choked his flames down with an iron hold. He hadn't been this uncontrolled since he was a child learning how to use his flames for the first time.

To his surprise, small fingers wrapped around his hand, lifting it up. His eyes shot up, and Lucy giggled at his stricken expression. Her fingers curled around his wrist gently, small and pale compared to his own coloring. Her finger ran across his palm slowly, following one of the lines of his hand. He sat, transfixed when she offered him a bright smile.

After a moment she set it back down, and his whole hand was practically alight with nerves. He was mildly surprised it didn't light back up. "There's nothing to be sorry about. It's been years since you've used your magic. It's bound to be a little pesky." Her smile turned a little shrewd, and she cast her companions a look. "Good thing we have an excellent ice mage on hand, always ready to step in."

Gray coughed, looking away. "You had it covered."

Lucy rolled her eyes, sharing a secretive smile that had Natsu's heart going a million beats per minute. Seriously, the girl only cleaned up a little. Why was he acting like some angsty teen?

"I see you ripped your stitches. And Porlyusica worked so hard on them." She sighed sadly, but her smile was still intact, telling Natsu she wasn't actually mad. She bent down, kneeling on the ground at his bloody side. "Let's see what I can do. Can you sit up?"

With Gajeel's help, they were able to lift him enough to unwind the bandages. It was slightly distracting with her small, warm hands leaving trails of fire across his chest, but he let the pain keep him steady. Gray was sent out to get some clean water for the wound, Gajeel and Levy to dispatch a few messages. Erza remained, watching curiously from the corner.

Bandages removed, Natsu was lying back on the couch. His skin burned in the air, and he forced himself to look at the wound. His gut rolled at the sight of the gaping hole, so much that he thought he could _see_ it moving. Natsu looked away quickly.

"Alright," Lucy warned him after Gray had returned. She'd cleaned the wound meticulously, scolding him when he moved too much. She was gentle and efficient, but that didn't stop it from hurting like hell. "This part might be a little painful."

"What did you consider the last part?" Natsu hissed through clenched teeth.

Lucy graced him with a humorous smile. "That was just uncomfortable."

"Oh gods," he moaned, a choked laugh coming from his lips. "I shake to know what you consider terrible." Lucy laughed with him, turning away quickly to deposit the bloody rag. He thought he saw a shadow over her face, but when she turned back around she was smiling gently.

"I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy," she assured him. He looked up at her soft gaze, but he was prevented from asking anything when, without _any_ warning, she placed her hands over his side.

For a moment he felt nothing. Then, there was a familiar tickle against his skin. Her hands became covered with a soft glow. He felt her magic glide against him, sinking into his body. His magic reeled at the foreign invader, but her magic soothed it. It held promising intents of healing and wellness, and his angry magic was lulled by the sweetness of her touch.

Her magic was like stardust, he thought to himself. It was light and airy, carrying all the good wishes in the world. It settled into him, brushing and caring for all his aches and pains. It calmed the raging dark parts of his ragged soul, and offered him the first bit of peace he'd had in nearly twelve years.

His head fell back and he closed his eyes. Darkness rolled over him, but this time it looked like a night sky full of stars.


	7. Chapter 7

Lucy pulled back, sweat beading down her forehead. Her hands trembled with exhaustion, magic slowly sinking back into her skin. It burrowed down deep, and she knew it would need a few hours to recuperate. Fatigue weighed heavily on her shoulders, but she shook the cloudy feeling away from her mind. Tired eyes scanned the newly healed wound, taking in the x-shaped scar. She had healed his internal injuries, which thankfully weren't much, and then his skin. Even that small bit of magic had tugged on her reserves. Since her little trick at the castle, her magic had been illusive and quick to use up. Hell, when they'd returned, she'd slipped into a two day coma.

She was no healer. Pulling skin back together was like some sort of complicated equation to her. She saw the parts it required and she could get them close, but she could never solve it. It was good that Porlyusica was so good at it. All Lucy had to finish was healing over the flesh. If it had been anything more complicated, Natsu wouldn't have made it as far as he had.

Looking up, she smiled at the peaceful sleep he'd slipped into. Since getting him back to this house, which had been an adventure in itself, he'd been fitful when he slept. Nightmares seemed to haunt him at every corner, but this was the first time he'd woken for more than a few delirious moments. Lucy didn't blame him. He had almost not made it.

After Zeref had come and disappeared with their opponents, it hadn't been all that difficult to get out of the castle, even witch Natsu's prone body. Jellal had carried him, sporting his own fair share of wounds from Mard Geer, and Gajeel had taken up the front, prepared to fight off any enemies. None presented themselves, though Lucy could swear she'd felt them watching. Leaving them as a message, or on their master's twisted orders? She didn't know.

They'd gotten into the city, and then it had been a race against time. Jellal had somehow gotten a hold of Erza through his love poems, which were secret messages. While they waited for her arrival in a run down, ramshackle house on the edge of Magnolia, Lucy and Gajeel had tried to stop Natsu's bleeding in the most primal of ways. Her magic had abandoned her since her earlier stunt, which she didn't want to think about, and Gajeel was no healer. They'd been stuck with pressing cloths into his bleeding side, silently praying to the gods.

Lucy hadn't prayed. She didn't know why, but she just couldn't find it in her to pray to those illusive gods. They had never helped her before, and they weren't going to start now. She did things on her own, not by the grace of some god. That didn't stop her from hoping, though.

Natsu had dove in front of a magic blast aimed to take her life. He'd thrown his body in front of hers without a second thought. She wasn't sure what to think about that, or anything for that matter. So much had gone on in such a short period of time. She'd hardly had time to sort through all of it.

She hadn't prayed. Instead, she'd sung. Softly, kneeling beside his steadily weakening form. She'd sung in the old tongue that her mother taught her when she was a girl, and she sang of the stars. The words poured out of that dark spot deep in her soul, and she couldn't stop them if she'd tried. She'd sung until her throat was raw, and then kept singing. She'd taken his hand in hers, slowly tracing all the lines in his palm as she sent bits of her magic to soothe him.

Then Erza had arrived, Porlyusica miraculously with her. The crabby pink-haired woman had taken one look at Natsu and ushered everyone else out. Lucy had stayed and refused to leave. The woman had barely paid her a second look, only mumbling to stay out of her way. She'd held his hand and continued to sing.

That had been a week ago. After Natsu had been all but brought back from the dead, they'd transported themselves back to their safe house. Then they'd met with the others and exchanged information, though Lucy admittedly slept through the majority of that. Still, seeing her friends gathered, even if for a short time, had eased something in the troubled, dark parts of Lucy's soul.

Laxus, Sting, and Rouge hadn't been among them. She'd looked, only to be disappointed. At the end of this mess, all she wanted were a pair of familiar arms to curl up into a cry. Loke had been there, though. He'd been by her bedside when she finally returned to the waking world, and it had been his arms that she'd found solace in when her nightmares were too scary to face. She hadn't cried even then, but sleep had been scarce since.

For some reason, kneeling next to this peaceful boy, listening to his even breathing, Lucy felt the unshed tears pushing against her eyes. She brushed them away quickly, sighing through her nose. Crying was reserved for when this was all over, when she could sit back and reflect on everything that had happened in her own bubble. It was not for shedding tears on sleeping, strange pink-haired men, even when his arms looked perfectly suitable for holding her up.

Lucy's eyes involuntarily shifted back to the sleeping man. His chest, bare without the bandages, rose and fell with steady breaths. His skin was tan from so many days under the sun, peppered with scars and marks of near misses. He was muscular, but not so much as to be unappealing. Even his unique pink hair only seemed to add to his boyish charm.

He was handsome. Lucy had noticed it from the day she'd met him in that dark cell. In another time perhaps she would have doted more on that fact. But this was an era of pain and enslavement. Young pink-haired men, no matter how handsome, were the least of her concerns.

Still, she wondered what he'd do now. He was free, healed for the most part. In a few weeks he'd be as good as new. Strong and free to do what he wished. He'd be gone by the end of the week, she realized with no small amount of sadness.

Or, he could come with them. Usually they were reserved about adding people to their group. It was dangerous work, not easy to stomach. But Natsu was different. As Mira had teasingly told her before they'd left, he didn't seem the type to back away from people in need.

Lucy pulled herself from her musings. She eyed him one more time, assuring that he was okay. His breathing continued to come out even and calm, and she felt herself smile at the happy lilt to his lips. She wondered what he was dreaming about, and hoped it was good. Anything had to be better than those bouts of screaming she'd hear occasionally. When a pair of palace guards had come earlier that day, she'd been half worried he'd start screaming in the barn. As it was, they'd had to hide the bloody sheets upstairs and hope and pray that they wouldn't bother to check. The spare bedroom looked as if they'd gone on a mild masacre. Thankfully Erza had scared them off quick enough. They'd left terrified and none the wiser.

Carefully she stood up, stretching her sore limbs. She'd used a lot of her steadily returning magic, and had been kneeling by him for quite some time. Cracking her back, she sighed and picked up the roll of bloody bandages and murky water. At least this time she'd had proper supplies to help him.

Lucy headed to the kitchen, pausing in the doorway when she noticed it wasn't empty. Gajeel was sitting on one of the stools, heavily leaning on the table and staring into his orange juice as if it had the answers to the universe. She snorted despite her tumultuous mood and walked over to the trash. She dropped the bandages in, dumping the water into the sink. It came out red.

When she finished and found that Gajeel still hadn't moved, she stomped over and grabbed the glass. In a swift move she downed the glass. She swallowed it greedily, not noticing how dry her throat had been. The orange juice was fresh, and just the proper amount of sour. She sighed, slamming the glass back on the counter, empty.

Gajeel was looking at her now, hand extended for the glass he'd been about to grab. He lowered it slowly, tilting his head. She still wasn't used to his newly cut hair, though she admitted it looked nice on him. "By all means," he said, eyeing the empty glass shrewdly.

Lucy laughed at his petulant tone, turning to the fridge. She pulled out the large bottle, refilling his glass for him. Mira had squeezed it a few days prior, before she and the others had to move out. Lucy already felt their absence like a dagger in her chest, but she'd return to them. As soon as they figured out what to do with the boy sleeping a few feet away.

She gave Gajeel his newly filled cup back, smiling cheekily. He grunted, accepting the gift, but simply set it back on the table. Lucy busied herself with getting a second cup and filling it. While she worked, she could feel his eyes digging into her back.

The attack came in the form of one word. "Ivan?"

Lucy tried not to let her shoulders stiffen, but her movements turned jerky. Out of everything that had happened, seeing her uncle was the most disturbing by far. His face had been haunting her dreams every night for the last week. It drove her to spending her nights staring into the stars to avoid sleeping and seeing him again. It made her glad that her cousin had not been here. She loved Laxus, but she didn't know if she could have faced him so soon after this.

All her old wounds, the ones she'd spent so many years and resources healing, had been torn open in that moment. Floods of memories followed after that one, none so gruesome, but almost worse. Happy memories of her childhood, the warmth of her parents, her mother's soft voice. It was too much, yet they wouldn't stop. One after another they attacked her dreams, until she woke struggling to remember what was real and what wasn't. Maybe that's why she had sang to Natsu.

"What about him?" She tried to appear indifferent. Gajeel didn't know about the relation, but she knew he wasn't stupid. They didn't look similar enough to be direct relatives, but she was sure her large friend had seen that bright beam of light he'd shot toward her. And the rage in his eyes...Lucy shivered despite the muggy air.

Well, he'd have realized anyway, she reasoned. One look at Laxus and he would have known the truth. She and her cousin didn't make their relation a secret. They might as well have told people they were brother and sister for the way they acted together.

Gajeel was silent, waiting for her to sort through her thoughts. He wasn't the most patient person, so she was grateful for his understanding. She knew he'd stop asking if she told him to bugger off, but her soul was already so heavy.

"Does he remind you of anyone?" She asked, turning back to him and sipping on her drink calmly. Gajeel narrowed his eyes, clearly thinking. He looked at her, and when his eyebrow lifted, she knew he'd made the connection. His eyes widened almost comically, and she smiled when she knew it clicked into place.

He hissed through his teeth, a grimace coming across his face. He raised his eyes back to hers, such sadness in those red orbs. Lucy smiled softly at the look. "He's the one who killed my parents." And her, but she wasn't ready to go into that story.

Her large friend sighed, shaking his head. "How do you stand to look at him?"

For a minute she was confused, but she hummed when she realized he meant Laxus. She set her orange juice down, fingers still wrapped around the chilly glass. It was true that Laxus was practically a carbon copy of his father with blonde hair and a mean scar. When she'd first met him, it had indeed been difficult to look him in the eyes without feeling fear. It had taken a while, but eventually they'd gotten past their differences. Despite his appearance, Laxus was _not_ his father. He never would be.

"I love him," she told him truthfully. "He's my blood."

Silence drew out between them. Lucy watched him looking at his steepled fingers. She knew he was looking at his piercings, and thinking about darker times. They all had their own scars to bear, some more visible than others. Gajeel's were buried in his skin for all to see. She had never gotten the full story from him, but she knew it had not been pleasant.

It hadn't made him cruel though. He was angry, yes, but not cruel. He loved, and he cried, and he got sad. He felt for others almost too much, the big softy. He had a gruff exterior, but a heart of gold. Lucy especially felt amused when she saw him with Levy. The small bookworm had wriggled her way into his heart, and she found that Gajeel was capable of many interesting expressions when Levy was involved. She made him a whole new person, and Lucy was glad. For as good as he was deep down, the man she had found in that ring nearly a year ago had not been a kind one. She still saw flashes of Nigrum Ferro in moments like this, but it was fewer and far between.

"I wanted to thank you," his voice broke through her thoughts. She blinked, stupefied. After everything that had happened, apologies were not on the forefront of her mind. At least, not from him.

"What?" She asked dumbly. Gajeel sighed, running a hand through his shortened locks.

He couldn't meet her eyes, struggling with forming the words he wanted to say. "What you did...when...when I was _gone_," he said slowly. Lucy's confusion cleared up as he successfully thrust into her face the s_econd_ most disturbing thing to happen as of late. Leave it to Gajeel to make her face everything she was trying to hide from.

"I didn't do anything," she told him honestly, turning away. This was not something she wanted to talk about. Not out of preservation, but for the mere fact that she didn't know _what_ to say about it. She didn't know what she had done. One moment she'd been there, and the next she hadn't. All she'd felt was a tug and she was gone. She was as desperate for an answer as he was.

Gajeel frowned at her but surprisingly didn't push. "Thank you," he repeated.

Lucy nodded and he took a sip of his juice.

* * *

Natsu woke up feeling like he'd been run over by a large building. How that worked, he didn't know, but it accurately described the pain he was feeling. The raging fire was put out, but the ashes burned in a different kind of way. An achey, constant thrum in his side. He groaned, burying his head deeper into the pillow. He was still on the couch, late afternoon light filtering through the curtained window. He was hurting and stiff from lying for so long, but it certainly beat waking up in a pile of horse shit.

A shower. That sounded absolutely _wonderful_ right now. Slowly he sat up, leaning against the arm of the couch. He looked down at his bare chest, surprised to only see a mark on his side. He was good as new, save for a still-pink x-shaped scar. Well, at least it looked cool. It beat having to see his own internals rolling around.

"Don't injure yourself again, flame face." Natsu's head shot up, eyes narrowing on the man sitting on the small armchair across the room. He had a shirt on this time, though it was unbuttoned and on its way down his arms. He was relaxing in the chair, a book lying open on his knee. His expression was less than pleasant when he levelled it at Natsu, though. Natsu felt his own mood sour in response. "If you bleed, I'm going to ice it shut. You don't need to make Lucy work more for you."

He was in agreement about that, though he'd never admit that to the smug bastard's face. He looked around for said blonde, but she was nowhere in sight. He really hoped she was okay. He wouldn't forgive himself if he'd caused her more trouble.

As if sensing his thoughts, Gray's face softened the slightest. "She's sleeping now," he said gently. Natsu noticed the sudden gentleness in the man's expression. "She hasn't gotten much recently."

There was a lot he wanted to question about that. Why was she not getting proper sleep? Did he cause her too much strain? And most of all; what did that look on Gray's face mean?

The look was gone in a second, replaced by the expected scowl. "You, though, sleep like the dead. And cut logs like a chainsaw."

Natsu doubted that, but he took up the challenge with a glint in his eyes. "Oh yeah? You know what else I can cut?"

"Bring it, firetard," Gray scoffed.

"Oh, I'll bring it Ice dick." Natsu rose unsteadily to his feet.

"I can't tell if you're flirting or fighting."

Both boys froze, forehead to forehead, fists raised threateningly. They turned in synch to the smiling blue-haired woman, equally horrified looks on their faces. In a second they had jumped away. Natsu made gagging sounds while Gray began saying, "I'd sooner shoot my dick off than—"

"Yeah, yeah," Levy chuckled, cheeks reddening and stopping Gray before he could go into graphic detail. "I'm just teasing. Erza and Gajeel are making dinner. Gray, you're supposed to go feed the horses."

"Why can't fire hands do it? He's up and about now," the man protested. Natsu glared but Levy cut him off with a stern look.

"Natsu needs a shower, desperately." She scrunched her nose at his protest. "And you said yourself he shouldn't tear his wound. Then Lucy would have to heal him again."

To Natsu's surprise, Gray only grumbled under his breath and stomped toward the hall. He disappeared around the corner, and a second later the door slammed shut as he went outside to do his duty. Levy followed his disappearing form with a knowing smirk, shaking her head and mumbling, "Boys."

"I don't know what magic you just used, but that was amazing." Natsu grinned. Levy returned the smile almost shyly. Seriously, this girl went from one end of the spectrum to the other within seconds. He got whiplash trying to keep up.

"Don't worry about it," she giggled. "I was serious about the shower, though. You stink."

Natsu sighed, nodding his head in agreement. He resigned himself to his fate. "Lead the way."

Levy brought him up the stairs, which led to a small hall. He could see a couple of bedrooms, but most of the doors were firmly shut. Levy opened one at the end of the hall, revealing an unkempt room. Clothes were scattered across the floor and the sheets were a tangled mess. The blue-haired woman bypassed it without a second glance, opening another door that was a bathroom. It was clean, with a toilet and a decent sized shower in the corner. Natsu could have cried in relief at the sight.

"I'll get some clothes from one of the boys. I'm sure they have something that'll fit you," Levy told him, backing out. "You know how to use the shower, right?"

He gave her a weird look and she raised her hands in surrender. "I'm just checking!"

A few minutes later found Natsu under a stream of hot water. It was as high as the temperature gauge would allow, and steam was wafting around him in thick clouds. Natsu breathed it in, feeling something loosen in his chest. It had been ages since he'd had an actual shower. The most he got was a spurt with the hose or a rag. This was heaven.

He allowed the heated water to relax the knots of tension from his shoulders. The bathroom was quiet beside the sound the water made hitting the tiles. Natsu tilted his head up, gazing up at the white ceiling.

So many questions had been plaguing his mind, but for the moment it was blessedly silent. He could feel the tension as if it were behind a door. He knew it was there, ready to swallow him when he put his guard down, but he enjoyed the moment of peace.

Sooner than he would have liked, Natsu knew he'd have to leave his sanctuary. He could feel the water cooling and reluctantly shut it off, not wanting to waste all their heated water. He stepped out, grabbing a white towel hanging by the side. It was gloriously soft when he wrapped it around his body.

Natsu caught sight of a flash of pink and turned, surprised when someone looked back. He peered into the familiar dark eyes, watching the frown that was on his own lips being reflected at him. The mirror was large, frosted over slightly from his steamy shower. It gave him a full view of himself, and Natsu took it in curiously. It had been ages since he'd seen his own reflection. That was a luxury they didn't offer in the dungeon plans.

Seeing his body like this, taking in all the scars that marred his skin, was a little disorienting. He knew it was himself, but it was like looking at a stranger. Tired, shadowed eyes watched him curiously, dark circles heavy underneath them. His hair was long, tickling the tops of his shoulders. His face was narrow and mistrusting of his own reflection, a hard set to his lips. He looked like the sort of men he fought, gaunt and tired.

He studied his newest addition, and decided that he didn't mind it. The shape was cool, and the story behind it made something light filter into his heavy chest. An image of a blonde woman flashed in his mind, and he watched himself smirk. Yeah, he liked this scar.

The others did not share the same sentiment. For instance, the one on his neck, which was thick and ran across half the length. That had been when he'd first discovered his powers, the day _she_ had died. A guard had tried to slit his throat. Kill the problem before it began.

Most of the ones on his chest and arms were from his fights. There was still the one on his right side that Lucy had risked her cover to heal. It was thin but long, reaching from under his armpit to his last rib. Looking at it in the light, it was almost ridiculous to believe it had nearly claimed his life.

His more recent one was the one on his jaw, which was a faded pink. Looking at it reminded him of the old man he'd fought, and then killed. All his previous relaxation dropped away like a brick, filled with a searing path of self-loathing.

He was a disappointment to everything Igneel had ever taught him. If his father could see him, Natsu knew he'd be disappointed. Igneel had never claimed someone else's life. He'd been the one to save Natsu's. When they had placed the shivering pink-haired boy in that arena, with every intent to be a scrumptious appetizer, Igneel had shown mercy. He had taken him under his wing, at no small price to his own health, and had taught him everything he'd known. Kindness, control, love. And Natsu had disrespected everything.

Mercy. That's what he'd told himself he'd been giving them. Release from this painful existence. But there was no mercy in that. No one _wanted_ to die. He hadn't realized it until he'd faced the problem himself. There was no mercy in death. He'd almost been surprised by how much he wanted to live. He didn't want to go into the light, if such a thing were even available to someone like him. He wanted to live and protect those who didn't deserve to be touched by something like death. He wanted to make his father proud, wherever he was.

Natsu didn't realize he'd clenched his fists until he felt the sharp bite of his nails breaking skin. He unclenched his hands, staring down blankly at the sharp crescent imprints in his skin. Looking at his hands brought his attention to his oldest scars. They were the most faded, practically indistinguishable from his skin, but he could see their silvery outline. Twin bands surrounding his wrists, caused by years of enslavement. Enslavement he'd managed to escape, only to find a worse torture waiting for him.

Erza was wrong. As a slave he'd suffered, but it had been beyond his control. In the ring, he'd been turned into a weapon to torture others. There was nothing fortunate about that.

Unable to stomach his thoughts anymore, Natsu turned away from his reflection. It was a mockery of the man he was supposed to be, a reminder of how he failed to become him.

He padded toward the door and opened it. It was colder in the room than the bathroom, and the breath of cool air allowed him to shake off his dark thoughts. His eyes went to the bed, expecting the clothes Levy had promised. He stopped short when he saw a familiar blonde girl instead.

She sat on the edge, looking down at something in her hands. Natsu couldn't see it from his angle, but she was staring at it determinedly. So much that she hadn't even seemed to notice his entrance.

There was a fierce look of concentration on her face, and he found it cute. Her nose was scrunched up, eyebrows coming together in a delicate little furrow. Not for the first time, he wondered what she was doing here. A girl like her didn't belong in chains or fighting bloody battles. She was still soft and kind, like a breath of fresh air in an enclosed space. She was too pure for this world.

Her head shot towards him, fingers clenching tightly around the object of her speculation. She had changed from the revealing tank top to a long button-up and jean shorts. Her hair was down, falling around her face in golden waves. She stood from the bed, slipping the hidden item into her pocket.

They stared at each other for a moment, eyes locked on each other. He couldn't read the expression in her eyes, but the emotions were so strong that they made him shiver. It reminded him that he was only dressed in a towel. It seemed to remind her too, and suddenly she was looking anywhere but him, a pink tint to her skin.

"Levy told me to give you these," she spoke quickly, picking up a small bundle of clothes and extending them toward him, still not looking at him. He chuckled, feeling light despite the previously heavy atmosphere. He stepped forward to accept the offering, keeping one hand holding up his towel. He pulled it close, eyes widening when he saw the item on top.

"My scarf," he whispered, and one of the many knots in his chest loosened. He smiled, nose dipping down to the white fabric. It smelled fresh, and it looked brighter.

"I'm sorry for taking it from you," Lucy muttered, watching him warily. There was a soft look in her eyes, obviously noting how much it meant to him. "It was full of blood so I washed it."

He peeked up at her, a content rumble rolling through his chest. He wrapped it around his neck carefully. In the beginning it had been a nice way to cover his collar, the symbol of his enslavement. Now, it was his only piece of his father. "Thank you."

She smiled, and Natsu swore that alone made the room ten times brighter. "It looks good on you."

His stomach tightened at her gentle tone, heating in that annoying way. He covered it with a grin. "You'll find that _everything_ looks good on me."

His sultry tone made her laugh, breaking through that soft look. She chuckled, and he found he liked her laugh. It was a little on the girly side, but he could feel it was genuine. Indeed, happiness shone in her brown eyes when she smirked at him.

"Well, those are Gray's clothes."

He snorted contemptuously. "I can rock these a million times better than that ice princess. _And _I'll even manage to keep them on."

"Ah, you better. Erza doesn't tolerate nudity at the dinner table. Something about indecency." She sighed, laughing at her own joke. Natsu laughed with her until they quieted, and they were back to that intense silence.

Natsu shifted awkwardly, the thick atmosphere attempting to swallow him whole. Her eyes were very expressive, but he could not distinguish the myriad of emotions that flashed through them. She opened her mouth, and he leaned forward eagerly.

"You should get dressed," she rushed out, glancing down at his chest and back up. She moved toward the door, keeping her body facing him. Her hand fluttered around nervously. "Uh, and dinner is ready. If you didn't hear that...I'll see you downstairs." Turning so quickly she nearly slammed into the door, she deftly moved around it and disappeared down the hall. Natsu watched her, surprise and humor warring over his face. The amusement won, and his deep laughter followed her down the hall.

* * *

Natsu entered the kitchen to find general chaos.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected. Members of the rebellion sure had a noble sounding message behind it, but that didn't change the fact they were a group of rowdy teenagers. So when a chunk of sauce hit the wall beside his head, he just blinked and took in the sight before him.

Erza was atop the table, a cake in her hands. She was glaring at Levy, who seemed to be arguing along the lines that the redhead would have to share. Erza was having none of it, and he could see her fingers twitching toward the dagger at her side when the bluenette made a move toward the plate.

The two men were no more than boys, flinging sauce at each other with competitive glares on their faces. Gajeel had a long red streak across his cheek, and Gray's whole chest was covered. Natsu thought it almost looked like blood.

The greatest surprise came in the form of Lucy, who was sneaking behind Gajeel. She sprang up, dumping a whole container of red sauce over his head with a triumphant shout. The whole room seemed to freeze, a gooping red monster that was once Gajeel blinking in shock. It turned to rage, and within a second he had turned around and tackled Lucy to the ground. The blonde screamed, and Natsu almost jumped in to save her, but froze when she began laughing.

Gajeel had taken her into himself, so he'd taken the brunt of the impact. It didn't stop him from rolling onto her, spreading the sauce all over her blue button-up. She tried to get away, giggling and screeching when he grabbed her ankle and yanked her back. He scooped off a large portion of sauce, laughing and smearing it all over her face. Lucy tried to move her head away, but he only began to spread it onto her other cheek.

"Gajeel!" Levy admonished, but she was watching the scene with a smile. Lucy sputtered when the large man backed away, sitting up and cackling.

"Bunny girl had it coming for her," he laughed, shaking his head. The girls shrieked, flinching away from the splatters of red sauce he sent around the room. Gajeel smirked at them, and then noticed Natsu standing by the door, observing. "Aye Salamander."

Lucy's head shot toward the door, and Natsu couldn't tell if it was the sauce or her face that was redder. Yet, she just began to laugh, carefully wiping some of the sauce away from her face. "Hey Natsu. Come on in."

"Bad time?" He wondered, cautiously entering the warzone. Gray gave him a dangerous look, but he lacked the ammunition to threaten the pinkette. Lucy's laugh tore him away from their silent battle, and he watched with amusement as she stood up, nearly slipping.

"No, no. We just got carried away. Don't mind it." She grabbed a napkin off the table, hastily wiping her face. Natsu smirked at the bit in her hair that she hadn't seemed to notice yet.

Erza stepped down from the table, and Natsu noticed she was the only one untouched. He wasn't surprised. The woman was scary enough to keep sauce at bay. "The boys were just going to clean up."

Gray and Gajeel let out sounds of protest, but they died when she sent them a dangerous glare. Muttering dejectedly, they grabbed bouts of paper towels and began the process of cleaning up the mess. Natsu laughed until Erza's look turned to him. He gulped, realizing he was a part of the aforementioned group.

So Natsu found himself on his knees, wiping bits of red off the floor with two other men while the woman worked on rectifying the meal. He grumbled, wondering why he was cleaning something he hadn't been a part of, but one look from Erza had him silent. It didn't stop him from bumping shoulders with Gray.

The man snarled, about to shove him back, but stopped short. His eyes went wide, then narrowed suspiciously. "Is that my shirt?"

"How on earth would you know?" Levy quipped from the other end of the room, laddeling pasta onto the dishes. "You don't keep them on long enough to know which is yours."

Gray ignored her. "That _is_ my shirt. And my pants!"

"Would you rather him go around in a towel?" Lucy sighed, passing by with a new cup of sauce. Gajeel mumbled something too quiet for Natsu to catch, but Lucy sputtered and slapped his arm indignantly. "You be quiet!"

A few minutes had them all seated around the island. It was a tight fit, and Gajeel had to stand, but Natsu found the arrangement comfortable. Of course he was ten feet too closer to Gray than he would have liked, but at least he had Lucy at his side. The blonde offered him a grin before she began eating.

They ate in comfortable silence. The food wasn't anything special, but Natsu could have wept when he greedily demolished the noodles. They were warm, home-cooked, and tasted like the best fire in the world. He gulped them down within seconds, and was stunned when Levy offered him seconds.

Natsu was on his fourth plate when Erza delicately set down her fork. The action was very careful, and the whole table grew tense, looking toward the redhead. Natsu looked up at the change, slurping up a noodle hanging from his lips.

"Erza," Lucy sighed, a tired note in her voice. "Can we not do this right now?"

"I'm sorry Lucy," the woman apologized, "But we need to establish some things."

Natsu put his own fork down, sighing and realizing that the eating part of the night was over. Now came his least favorite part; the questioning. Lucy looked like she wanted to protest more, but Natsu put a hand over hers, which was resting on her leg. She looked at him sadly, but he only smiled. "It's fine, Luce. I'll answer whatever you want," he assured them.

It was bound to happen anyway. Natsu had been exposed to too much for them to simply trust him, and after what he'd done to Gajeel, they had no reason to do that. He was more shocked he hadn't been subject to an interrogation sooner. He wasn't one for sharing sob stories, but he'd tell them whatever they needed to know.

Erza nodded, a satisfied smile crossing her face. Lucy huffed but settled back, allowing the interrogation to continue. "Perhaps we should start at more basic things. Who taught you the dragonslaying arts?"

He was a little surprised. Most people didn't know about that style of magic, let alone that it had to be taught by someone who had mastered it. Igneel had once told him that dragon's themselves had taught men the power.

Natsu swallowed and said, "His name was Igneel. He was the only father I ever knew. He was a gladiator that went by the name Rex Draconum. He could have killed me, but he decided to teach me instead. He disappeared six years ago, July 7, X777."

Nobody moved as he talked, but he could have sworn Lucy shot a pointed look toward Gajeel. For his part, the big man didn't blink, but Natsu noticed a certain stiffness to his shoulders.

"I'm sorry to hear that. What about your family?" Erza questioned.

Natsu shrugged his shoulders, but he felt something sink hard in his gut. "I don't remember them much. A few blurry bits here and there, but no names or faces. I was taken when I was four. We must have lived in one of the warring cities. My magic didn't show itself until I was ten."

"You worked in the mines of Crocus," Erza affirmed, "that must have been hard."

"No harder than I'm sure any of you have faced." He didn't have proof, but he was certain that everyone in this room had been in a similar situation. The only ones who remained a mystery to him were Lucy and Levy.

Erza nodded fairly but didn't confirm or deny his claim. She glanced around the table and sighed. "I suppose I should get to the true matter of this discussion." She leveled him with a dangerous look, and Natsu's spine instinctively straightened in response. "You've heard of the rebellion, I'm sure? We are part of one of many guilds involved in the organization. The name of our guild is called Fairy Tail."

"Get to the point, Erza," Gray dolled lazily, but with a hard edge to his words that had Natsu believing he was against whatever was occuring. The redhead gave him a glare, but he pretended not to notice, busying himself with looking at his nails.

Lucy decided to take over. "We want you to join." She blinked, realizing how forward she sounded, and backtracked. "I mean, I know it's not an easy job. You're free to say no and go about the rest of your life. We have safe houses all over the place. If you don't want to join you're more than welcome to use one. But, you don't seem like the kind to run away from a fight."

All Natsu could do was stare at her. They wanted him to join their group? After what he had done? They wanted _him?_ His eyes jumped to Gajeel. "But I—"

"We all made mistakes, Salamander," Gajeel cut him off, red eyes sharp. "Our pasts don't define us. It's what ya do with yer future tha determines who ya are."

The others stared at the big man with mixed expressions. "That was oddly poetic, Gajeel," Levy said, smiling. He grunted in dismissal, but Natsu noted the pleased look on his face.

Join the fight against Zeref. The idea had never even occurred to him. Fighting was in his blood, but he'd never thought of himself as someone who could make some sort of difference. The idea was a warm one, though. He could join these people, and work to bring back a better world. He thought back to the pasta battle he'd walked in on. They wouldn't be the worst group to join, even if Gray was a cold bastard, but would he belong? He wasn't without sin, despite what Gajeel said. He had scars that he could barely bring himself to face, regrets that haunted him at night. Could he hope to join such a bright group?

A touch on his hand drew him from his silent musings. He looked down, finding Lucy gazing up at him with wide eyes. He finally recognized the emotion in them. Hope.

"Will you join Fairy Tail?" She asked quietly.

Natsu looked down at her, and he found all his what-ifs crumbling away. As long as she looked at him like that, he didn't have room for any doubts.

He grinned. "Yeah, I will."


	8. Chapter 8

That night found the others packing up all their supplies. Between darting around the house gathering things, Lucy informed him that they'd be moving to the main base of operations. As the newest member, he wasn't allowed to know where exactly that was, but he didn't mind. He knew trust would be something he'd have to earn. At the same time, they'd have to earn his, too. He mostly trusted Gajeel and Lucy, but it was a shaky agreement at best. He didn't know enough about them to put his full faith in them, but he accepted that they were only there to help.

Not having anything to pack up, Natsu found himself in the small garden at the back of the house. The light from the kitchen illuminated the small space, combined with the dimming glow of the setting sun. He took in the orange and pink sky with no small amount of reverence. It had been a long time since he'd last seen a sunset.

He heard the door slide open, but didn't bother to turn around. Gajeel's metallic scent invaded his senses, slightly covered up by the soft smell of the flowers around them. Levy had picked all the food ripe enough to take with them. The rest, she'd told him when he'd asked, would be left for the animals.

Natsu was standing by a patch of what Levy had called lilies. They were white, and a little droopy, but they smelled the best in his opinion. He was gently caressing one of the soft petals when Gajeel approached. The big man didn't say anything, so Natsu continued what he was doing.

The glow of the sunset painted Gajeel's face pink. It reflected gently off the metal pieces along the bridge of his nose, almost hiding them from sight. The glow created a softness to the grumpy man's face that made him look vulnerable. Natsu could almost picture him as a child.

Still, he looked oddly out of place in the quiet spot. He was so big and bulky compared to these delicate plants. Natsu didn't feel much different. They were two large dark spots in the area of soft beauty.

"We didn't tell them about what happened in the castle," Gajeel spoke quietly, as if afraid to destroy the peaceful silence. "Between you and me. And what happened with Lucy."

Natsu blinked. No wonder they had let him in so easily. They didn't know what he'd done. "Why not?" He was surprised by the emotion in his voice. It sounded upset.

"It wasn't fer you," he assured him, crossing his beefy arms. He sighed, reluctant about what he was sharing. "What happened back there with blondie...it wasn't normal. We don't know what happened, and she didn't want to tell the others 'bout it yet. It'll jus' scare 'em."

He could understand. He was still a little terrified of the blonde, even if he found himself quickly warming up to her and her pretty smiles. What he'd seen in that yard had not been natural in the slightest. He didn't know what it meant. "So you couldn't tell them about what happened without raising suspicion." It _would_ be a little hard to explain that he'd killed Gajeel, only to have the man miraculously at their side.

"Yes and no." The big guy gave him a hard look, his red eyes brighter in the light. They were so different from Zancrow's eyes, which were dark and full of bloodlust. Gajeel's were inquisitive and softer, like iron that had been left in the fire too long. "Of course I wasn't gonna rat Bunny Girl out, but I din' want 'em to look at ya different."

Natsu blinked in surprise. He hadn't expected the man to show any reserve toward his own being. Gajeel continued on, still not looking at him. He almost seemed to be forcing the information out of himself, and preferred to get it done quickly. "The one who taught me dragon slaying told me that other slayers were gonna be like my brothers. He wasn't wrong. I've met a few o' ya bastards, and the connection is pretty intense. Something to do with our magic or such," he waved a big hand dismissively, face frowning. "Besides that, I've been in your spot. I was a gladiator too. I...I _killed_ people. Good people. And I'm not proud of it."

He looked up at the pinkette with a serious expression. "If it weren't for that little blondie in there, I don't know where I'd be right now. You din' do it out of spite or hate, and as far as I'm concerned, it's in the past. Eventually it'll have to come out when Bunny Girl explains what happened, but ya don't need to dwell on it, alright? Just make sure ya don't try it again," he growled, leaning closer. "Cuz if ya hurt one of my own, I won't hesitate to kill ya."

"From motivational speech to threats in a minute," Natsu chuckled. His hackles rose at the warning but he tried to keep them down. "Rather impressive."

Gajeel snorted, backing up with his shoulders significantly less stiff. "I aim to please."

"So," Natsu started, turning back to the look at the sky. Gajeel's threat rumbled in the back of his head, but he let it slide away. It wasn't uncalled for. "Who taught you dragon slaying?"

His brother by magic turned around as well, hands resting loosely in his pockets. "His name was Metalicana. He wasn't a gladiator or nothin', just some guy who noticed my potential. He taught me everything I know." He paused for a long moment, then sighed, "He was a slave with me. They took him away July 7, X777."

Natsu felt like the guy had punched him. He turned toward Gajeel in shock. "That's–"

"The same day yers left, I know," he nodded, thinning his lips. "We've got a few other dragon slayers in our group. It's the same for 'em, too."

"What the hell does that mean?" Natsu growled, feeling his heartbeat pick up. His magic spun wildly in his veins, and he barely noticed that his fingers had lit up. The lily he'd been touching turned to ash. "Why would they take them away on that day? _Who_ took them away?"

Gajeel's eyes watched him, hard. "Relax, Salamander," he commanded. As if a bucket had been dumped on him, Natsu felt his magic shut off. He breathed hard, confused that he was so worked up.

He looked down at the black stump that had once been a delicate flower. He quickly backed away, holding his hands to him so they couldn't ruin anything else. His magic still thrummed, eager to be released. "What is happening to me?"

"Like Bunny Girl said," Gajeel rumbled, "You've been separate from yer magic too long. Ya don't know how to control it anymore. That'll be the first thing we'll work on when we get back."

"Igneel's gone," Natsu said spitefully, his stomach tightening. "Who's gonna teach me."

Gajeel's laughter broke him from his stupor. The man grinned at him, though Natsu noticed a cruel glint in his eyes. "Don't ya worry 'bout that. We've got the _perfect_ guy."

Natsu would have asked more, but the door opened again, and Gray stuck his head through. He frowned at them, and Natsu noticed that he had his shirt fully buttoned and pants on, for now. Ignoring Natsu, he turned to Gajeel and informed him, "Erza's got the carriage packet up. She commands that you get your lazy ass in here." He disappeared a second later, cackling and missing Gajeel's glare.

"Carriage?" Natsu wondered. Gajeel chuckled, though Natsu thought it sounded sad.

"You'll see."

* * *

Natsu did not like carriages.

Carriage was too nice of a term for the wheeled death-trap of pain and eternal punishment. Too innocent. Carriages were _evil_.

His stomach lurched painfully. This was worse than his wound, he decided. _This_ was death. He'd take getting blasted in the side a million times over if it meant he didn't have to spend one more minute on this object of torture. Natsu guttered, all but sinking into his seat in misery.

The thing itself was nice, he supposed. The outside was painted black with gold trimming, the inside cushioned with nice maroon furnishings. It was a high-class carriage, designed so they would not be stopped on the way to the hideout. Natsu's only reprieve was that Gray was at the front with Gajeel, driving the two horses he'd been rooming with earlier.

Lucy and Levy had been forced to change to fit the nobel image, and were decked out in pompous dresses that had enough dust on them that Natsu felt his nose itch. They were nice enough, a little outdated, but he had thought it didn't matter once Lucy put it on. Her's was pink with a tight bodice that clung to her chest enough that Natsu felt his face flush, and billowing skirts. She'd patted them down disdainfully, but he thought she fit the part rather well.

Levy was in a similar dress, but less puffy and a soft shade of peach. It made her blue locks stand out nicely, but she had been forced to hide them beneath a large hat for the sake of being unrecognized.

For his part, Natsu was left in his breeches and button-up. Lucy had made him to pull the collar down and tuck the tails in, and they'd forced him to wear a ridiculous hat, but she permitted him to have his scarf. The fabric was the only comfort he had when the carriage ran over another large bump. His stomach fell when the carriage did, and he blubbered. He swore Gray was doing it on purpose, the bastard. Lucy had laughed at his mumbled accusation, assuring him that Gajeel was suffering as much as he was, and Gray had enough self-preservation not to try and poke that bear.

Erza had opted out of the dresses, which Levy complained she didn't know was a choice. Instead, the redhead donned a set of armor, posing as a guard. She sat stoically in the seat beside the blonde. Natsu swore she didn't shift even once. He watched as they hit a dip. Lucy and Levy teetered in their own seats, but Erza remained perfectly still. Natsu wondered if he was in a delirious-induced sickness.

He moved up a little, swallowing down the food in his stomach. Maybe four helpings of pasta had been a poor idea, but he couldn't bring himself to truly regret it. It had been delicious. "Why are we heading _back_ to Magnolia?"

Natsu could not see out the curtained windows, but he recognized the scent of the city well enough. Dirt, blood, and gold. The smells of home.

Erza didn't look surprised that he recognized their location. She offered him a small smile that had him shrinking away. "You will see when we get there."

Lucy offered him a kinder look, turning back to Erza. "Are you sure Jellal will be waiting on the other side? I don't think I'm in any kind of condition to power it all on my own." She looked guilty, but Erza placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, expression soft.

"We sent word ahead through the lacrima. He will be waiting."

The blonde nodded, grateful. Natsu was curious what they were talking about, but one glance at the redhead had him thinking better of asking. He came up with a safer question. "What did happen to Jellal? I thought he was with us?"

The two across from him gave him strange looks, but Levy only giggled. She was fanning herself with a tiny brown fan, and Natsu was relieved that she also looked a little green at the rough riding. "I forgot you weren't awake for that."

"We had some of our friends there when you were out," Lucy filled in, realizing her mistake. "They went back with Jellal so he could get the information to our head as soon as possible."

Natsu frowned. "What was so important in the capital that you had to go undercover as a slave?"

Lucy stiffened, her eyes going wide at the unexpected question. Erza's expression became stern, ready to tell him off for such a rude question, but the blonde stopped her. Lucy held up a hand, her face conflicted. She looked Natsu in the eyes, her brown gaze hard. "I was sent in to find a book that holds powerful spells," she said softly.

He had the feeling that she was holding back information, but he felt a spike of gratefulness that she relinquished that much truth. The others almost seemed to have fun taunting him with their hidden knowledge, which he understood but was still annoying.

She smiled, and then it was her turn to take him by surprise. "Why did Zeref know your name?"

If Natsu was sick before, just hearing that name made it ten times worse. He felt his back stiffen, and glanced at Levy and Erza. The two were indifferent, either they already knew or had good poker faces.

He swallowed down the bile that had risen in the back of his mouth, throat stinging. "Your guess is as good as mine," he offered her, shrugging limply. "I was popular in the ring. He takes interest in strong gladiators, but I've never met him before then." It was a partial truth.

Lucy looked at him long and hard, weighing his words and the truth behind it. Eventually she sat back and looked out the window, but he could tell by her shoulders that she wasn't satisfied with his answers. Natsu kept the feeling of guilt firmly down in his stomach. They had their secrets, he could have his. Besides, a twelve year old memory was nothing of importance.

The rest of the ride passed in stiff silence. Lucy continued to stare out the window, face contemplative. Levy fanned herself quicker as the heat begin to pick up. Natsu just slumped lower in his seat, trying not to release his insides on the carriage floor. Erza was as unmoving as stone.

Finally, the death trap slowed to a stop. Natsu wouldn't have noticed if his companions hadn't stiffened. He sat up slowly, noting that the swirling of his stomach was gone. He sighed in relief as there was a thump from the wall behind him. One thick thump followed by two sharp knocks. Natsu didn't know what it meant, but Levy let out a relieved smile. "We're here."

The trepidation that had been missing finally made itself known when the girls began to descend from the carriage. He went first, holding out a hand to help Levy and Lucy down. The blonde paused just slightly before taking his hand. He tried not to think of it as a slight, gripping her small hand firmly until she settled on solid ground. She was quick to release him, turning to face Gray. Natsu turned away and nearly got a fist to the face when Erza held out a hand, an impatient look on her face. He grabbed it quickly, though the redhead didn't need much assistance.

Gray said something to Lucy, to which the blonde nodded and smiled. He grinned back, and Natsu felt something in his gut twist. It confused him, he wasn't on the carriage anymore. Must be the after effects, he thought sourly, watching the dark haired man climb back onto the carriage and snap the reigns. The horses neighed quietly, beginning to trot away.

For the first time, Natsu noticed where they were. They were in the middle of a street, standing in front of a decrepit building. All the stores were in states of disrepair, he noticed looking down the cobbled street. Very few people walked along the paths, and those who did had hoods up and heads down, moving quickly. The stores were all old and shoddy, doors firmly shut. The one in front of them appeared to be a bar of some sort, and Natsu thought it might have looked grand before Zeref's reign. It had a tall front, long spires coming out of the side. A large sign with a split down the center read 'The Gatehouse'.

"Come on," Lucy murmured from his side. He hadn't noticed the blonde approach, and looked down at her curiously. She offered him a smirk, sliding her hand into the crook of his elbow. His skin heated at the contact, and she subtly pulled him forward. They followed the others to the old double doors, the only somewhat stable looking thing, which pushed in easily under their hands.

They passed through the doors into a small dining area. Tables and chairs were placed randomly over the floor, a few booths along the back wall. A wood bar sat in the corner, manned by a skinny looking boy with a bowl cut. A few patrons were sitting sparsely around the room, sipping from beer tins and watching the group curiously. The only one who looked excited to see such pompous guests was the bartender, who all but lit up at their appearance.

"Welcome!" He cheered, setting down the glass he'd been wiping. "What can I get for your highnesses?" There was a snarky tone in his voice, and Natsu looked closer to see a familiar glint of humor in his eyes. He looked like he was distinctly trying to hold down laughter, and Natsu belatedly realized that he knew who they were.

"A private room," Lucy demanded, a high and mighty air surrounding her. Natsu was shocked by the change, and she lifted her pert nose disdainfully. "Away from the scum."

A few of the patrons growled, baring their dirty teeth at her. Natsu could practically hear what they were thinking. He glanced around, glaring at any who looked too troublesome.

"Of course, Ma'am." The man turned, heading for a door at the back of the bar. "This way."

The group followed him, and Natsu noticed Lucy wasn't the only one to adopt the new persona. Levy was looking around disdainfully, her fan held to cover her face, as if the very sight of the men would infect her. Gajeel was at her side, a little less royal looking with his piercings, but he managed a holier than thou look all the same.

They filed through the door, which the bartender. It led to a small back room, mostly storage shelves of old beer and packaged food. It was barely big enough for all of them to fit, and Natsu found himself awkwardly pressed against Lucy's side. He tried to make space, but Erza's glare had him stopping quickly. The bartender moved to the front, snickering and reaching down to open a hatch Natsu hadn't noticed in the floorboards. He motioned down into the dark hole. "Right this way, m'lady."

"Oh be quiet, Max!" Levy hissed, smacking his arm with her fan as she moved forward. The man only laughed, offering her a hand when she approached the hole. She took it resignedly, stepped slowly down into the dark until her blue head disappeared.

"Ladies first," he quipped at Gajeel, who merely glared and followed the small girl into the dark. Lucy sighed, stepping forward and descending after them. Erza followed, ignoring Maz's offered assistance. The man didn't seem surprised, and his smile only grew wider at the look she sent him.

He turned to look at Natsu, tilting his head slightly. "You're new," he speculated. Then he grinned wider. "I'm Max. It's nice to meet some new people. You'll like it, I'm sure."

"Natsu," he greeted, taking his hand in a shake. The boy moved aside as Natsu bent down. He found a ladder leading into the black, and he carefully made his way down it. Just when his head disappeared, he looked up to see Max looking down at him.

"Be careful out there, Natsu," the boy winked. Natsu wanted to ask what he meant, but he shoved the door closed, and suddenly he was left in pitch black.

He all but fell onto the ground, which was thankfully only a few feet beneath him. Grunting at the impact, he shook himself off and looked around. It was still pitch black, and he couldn't see two feet in front of him. He almost jumped out of his boots when something brushed against his side.

Lucy's voice quickly came from the darkness. "Natsu, can you light your hand up?"

He complied easily, holding it high above his head so it couldn't light one of the girls' large dresses on fire. The flames tickled his hand, and lit up the large space. It was chillier beneath the ground, the cavern about ten feet long, a few across. Long tables were against the sides, full of food and clothes and other various supplies. Against the far wall was a strange looking circle, which was carefully drawn onto the stone.

"Here," Levy offered, holding out a torch to the boy. He grabbed it, lighting it on fire and letting his own go out. The bluenette took it and lit two others, allowing the room to be illuminated fully.

Natsu watched the girls go to the tables, picking up a set of clothes. "Turn around," Erza commanded harshly, grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him to face the opposite wall. Gajeel was in a similar position, arms crossed and rolling his eyes. At Lucy's word they turned around and found the dresses replaced by more common clothes. They were white blouses, and Natsu was surprised by the tan breeches Lucy had slid on. Levy wore a black skirt, but the blonde was smoothing her pants down with an almost loving look on her face.

"This is your hideout?" Natsu wondered, glancing around once again at the barren walls.

"What? Not to your standards?" Lucy teased, folding her arms over her large bust. Natsu ignored the way it flaunted her goods, smirking.

"I think my dungeon was better. At least that had a window."

She laughed, her eyes alight in the glow of the torches. The flames turned her hair golden, as if it were its own living flame. She opened her mouth to retort, but Gajeel groaned.

"Can ya save the flirting for when yer alone?"

Natsu flushed at the implication, but he glanced at Lucy to see the blonde had turned red. From anger or embarrassment, it was hard to tell. "Says you, Gajeel," she spoke, regaining a superior look when the big man blanched. "Weren't you the one saying how—"

The door opened again, and a figure dropped into the space. Gray crouched against the ground, raising and dusting himself off. When he looked up and saw they were all looking at him, he frowned. "Did I miss something?"

"Nothing," Erza assured him, glaring at anyone else to defy her. Gajeel held his hands up in surrender, and Lucy just sighed, the last of the red disappearing from her cheeks. "Time?"

"Five to three," he told her, walking over to the table and glancing at the food a little longingly. He glanced at the blonde. "Ready to go?"

"Go where?" Natsu wondered. Lucy gave him a smile, the confidence back in her face.

"_This_ is why this place is better than your cell," she chuckled, swaying toward the drawing on the opposite wall. She reached out and ran her hand around the length of it, completing the circle. Where her fingers touched, the mark began to glow. Golden light filtered through the crack, leaving a glowing circle when she pulled away. She reached out, tracing the strange symbols in the center. A foreign language of some kind, though Natsu couldn't begin to imagine what they meant.

Lucy placed both of her palms at the center of the circle, and they began to glow. Her shoulders squared, eyes closed, and she pushed into the stone. For a minute nothing happened, and then the circle parted. Natsu gaped, watching with shock as the stone pushed inwards, revealing a swirling mass of blue and purple. Even though he'd never seen one before, he knew what it was.

"A portal," Levy confirmed, laughing at his awestruck expression.

"Luce can make portals?"

Erza frowned at the nickname but didn't correct him. "Not on her own, at least not with other people. Jellal is on the other side, feeding his own magic. But yes, she has the capability to make them."

"Incredible." It was the only word that fit the situation. The portal was beautiful, a little bit of gold mixing with the blue as Lucy's magic combined with Jellal's. He watched the sparks fly off it, eyes drifting toward the blonde girl still standing there. He wasn't sure if he was talking about her or the portal.

Levy nodded, following his attention. Lucy stood firm for a few more moments, securing the portal in place, and slowly backed away. Her hands diminished as she pulled back, eyes opening. Her strong position drooped with tiredness, but she tossed a confident smile over her shoulder. "Impressed?"

"Extremely," Natsu agreed, approaching. Gray moved to Lucy's other side, placing a steadying hand on her back. She gave him a grateful look, which he missed as he glared at the pinkette on the other side of her. She sighed.

"Go on," she pushed her raven-haired friend forward, toward the swirling portal. "I can't keep it open forever."

"See ya on the other side," he winked, turning and stepping into the colorful gate. Natsu watched as his leg disappeared, then his arm, and finally Gray was completely gone. Sucked up by the portal.

She giggled at his gaping, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked down and found her smiling up at him, tired but proud. "Your turn."

He approached the gate cautiously. Slowly he stepped into it, the magic tickling his when he entered the domain. It was thick and concentrated, foreign and similar at the same time. He recognized Lucy's magic, mixing with something else to create a thing entirely new.

Taking a deep breath, Natsu allowed his body to ease into the magic. It pulled on him invitingly, and his eyes slid closed when he sank into the bright oblivion. The magic swallowed him whole, cutting him off from his companions, and thrusting him into his new life


End file.
